The fires of war and the ice that follows
by Dragon89
Summary: An unsuspecting man is dropped in a fictional war zone and must survive in a world much different than his own.
1. Chapter 1

This is unreal. Those were my first coherent thoughts since I came to be where I am, so much for a relaxing weekend hunting.

The Idea was to have a nice weekend away from the general hustle of the big city. Have a pleasant walk thru the woods and maybe bag something with my trusty AR-15, but no the universe had to throw me a curve ball.

One second I have a deer down my sights and then nothing. Once I awoke again I was in some sort of tent surrounded by what I thought were a bunch of renaissance re-enactors. How wrong I was.

After a mild freak out on my part as well as some shouting, a gun was pointed about the tent and swords were drawn to my amusement, however fortunately cooler heads prevailed and we didn't come to violence and after some quick talking and assuaging them that I have absolutely no idea as to how I got where we currently are, I discovered that this was literally nowhere near Kansas. Hell it was so far from Kansas it wasn't even funny.

Now I've read of such things happening to people, but that was just a bunch of people with an overactive imagination and too much time on their hands. This stuff should not be possible, but my current situation seems to disagree with that assessment.

More to the point I seem to have been dropped in a fictional place, however it did take me some time to pin it down and once I did I nearly started cursing like a sailor with a hangover in the middle of the impromptu meeting I was having with the locals.

It would seem that whatever malicious entity dropped me here has a wicked sense of humor. After all couldn't it have picked a less screwed up setting. Even „Lord of the rings" would have been better than this, but no it had to be a murder happy place like this with no clear good guy and worst of all I happen to have only some knowledge of the setting gained in passing.

I mean in this place from what little I know the bad guys can be good and the good guys can be bad. Why did it have to be Game of fucking thrones. Luckily I managed to stop my freak out before it caused a scene. That is to say I merely postponed it by shoving it aside for now until such a time I could afford to have it in private.

It would seem that I fell from the sky and into a river in front of what looked like a young looking Eddard Stark and Hoster Tully who took me in. They seem to think my unexpected arrival was the work of the gods. Probably why they took me in, a good thing too since I would have probably drowned if it wasn't for them. It is them that I found in what is now my tent.

They proceeded to regale me with tales of there rebellion against the mad king Aerys Targaryen and then left me for the moment telling me that they will see me in the morning.

This brings us to now.

I was sitting on my bed contemplating my fate and having that freak out that I mentioned. As a former soldier I was used to pressure and unusual situation, since I did a stint with the marines in Iraq, before I got back and got my engineering degree, but this was in a ball park of its own and frankly I was at a loss.

I shed some tears over friends and family that I'm more than likely never going to see again and decided that crying myself to sleep was the better part of valor in this case. I was to emotional to make any decisions.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Morning came to little fanfare. I awoke to the unfamiliar surroundings that was my tent and at first not knowing where I was or how I got there began panicking anew, but it passed after a few minutes and then it hit me like a speeding Mac truck.

I was alone and in frankly ludicrous situation. The grief has passed the night before or at least the worst of it. Now there was only sadness and resignation to the situation at hand.

Sobering up a little from the glum mood that I found myself in I started to take stock of my surroundings, something that I had previously neglect to do what with all that happened the day before most of which is a blur to me with it being entirely too eventful for my taste.

The fist thing that I noticed was the glaring difference in height that had me shocked for a few minutes. It would seem that I have been de-aged significantly no being what I estimate from memory as only 15 years old. I would have said that it was impossible, but with all that has happened in the last 24 hours I simply chalked it to the entity that brought me here being at least somewhat generous in that regard.

After some brief stretches to check that everything worked as it should I resumed my check of the tents contents. It was sparsely furnished with only a bed a wooden table with two wooden chairs and what could only be a pissing pot in one corner. Now there was something I am most probably going to hate the most about this place. The lack of sanitation is not something I was looking forward to.

I walked to the table and found that what little gear I had with me besides my clothes was neatly stacked to one side as well as a small clay pitcher of what I guessed was either wine or water.

Seeing as I was now again 15 wine would have been quite inappropriate not to mention illegal, but then that was in my old world and there is bizarre thought I never would have had before. In this world 15 did not mean the same thing it did in my own. Here it is normal nay expected to at least be married at my age and not that odd to have at least one kid. So I am unlikely to get much lip about my age. To hell with it all, with the day I'm having I could use some alcohol to dull the throb of emotions coursing thru me.

Taking a swig from the pitcher I find that it is indeed wine, however it tastes like watered down piss. I struggle for a second to hold it down not expecting the taste, but then I figure I will get used to the taste and it should go down better the more I consume of this not quite fine beverage at least most alcohol is like that.

Of my gear not much seems to have come with me, assuming of course that some of it is not still in the river or confiscated by my host. All that lays on the table seems to be my compass, combat knife, binoculars and colt .45 with 4 clips for it. This is good after all it could be worse. Most of these things I could use, the combat knife alone in a worst case scenario could be sold for quite some gold since it has a steel blade and those were a lost art here if I remember correctly. The colt however while invaluable in the short term would be bitch to maintain and even if I police my brass there is still the issue of having to invent gunpowder in order to make more bullets.

I doubt that I would have a choice in the matter seeing as I might need it in order to survive the war I would most likely be heading off to and while proficient in close quarter combat, fighting with a sword is entirely beyond me for the moment. I guess I would have to learn on the go as it were or risk ending up as a statistic in a war I really couldn't care less about.

My thoughts were interrupted by a young boy of no more than eight covered in rags as he came into my tent and with a clumsy half-bow said "Ma l'rd l'rd Stark be asking fer ya"

In response I gave the kid a raised eyebrow and thought of whether his accent was horrible or it was something else.

My stare seemed to have unnerved the boy as he started to fidget and said "I be waiten out fer ya"

I took another long pull from the piss poor wine and this time I managed to keep it down without much trouble.

As I stowed my gear a strange thought hit me. You know I'm probably the only guy on the planet that wears underwear and not what amounts to diapers.

With That I headed after the boy to go and face the music.

** XXXXXXXXXXXX**

Sunlight hit my eyes and I briefly had to shield them so that they could adjust to the sun. Once that was done what lay before me was something that really hammered the reality of the situation.

I signaled the lad to lead the way while carefully observing the war camp that was assembled all around us. The camp itself was huge there are probably thousands of man and hundreds of horses all told.

While we walked to Lord Stark's tent I could make out warriors of the riverlands most armed with spears and short swords and dressed in leather and chainmail. Next came the Northmen clothed in thick furs and chain mail armed with all manner of weapons and carying round shields. Then last came the Valemen fewer in number, but considerably better armed. Most that I could see wore heavy plate armor and were most likely knights of the vale. They were an eclectic bunch to say the least.

The Valemen probably acted as heavy infantry and heavy cavalry with the Northmen acting as shock troops and light cavalry. The troops from the Riverlands were the meat of this force this was obvious by their larger numbers and with nothing in particular setting them apart. They were meant to take the burden of a full scale combat and tie as much of an enemy force as they could or it could be that since we were in the Riverlands they were simply easier to rally in a short amount of time.

What bothered me was that I couldn't distinguish any warriors of the Stormlands that was a mystery in on itself. One that bothered me slightly, but only time could tell. I have still not managed to figure out when precisely I am having found out the whereby now was next on the agenda.

The men all around me were all looking sharp and strolling about like they had a purpose. I paid them little mind. The walk while distracting allowed me to focus on the present and how exactly I'm going to bullshit my way out of this one. While I was no slouch when it came to combat I doubt I could offer much seeing as a gun with a few bullets was my only ace for the moment and my skill with a blade were nonexistent. While 15 at least I looked the part of a warrior or at least I hoped.

My thoughts were interrupted however as it appears we have reached the tent of Lord Stark. The boy removed the flap and bid me to enter.

Taking a moment to brace myself and mentally prepare for whatever follows I then strolled into the tent ready to face the music.

As I enter the tent I note that it is much larger than my one accommodations and also not lord Stark's own since there is no bed. Only one large wooden table adorned with maps and other paraphernalia. At its head lord Stark sits writing something on a piece of parchment with a quill of some sort.

I wait for him to finish still standing near the entrance patiently observing my host and trying to peg him not as a fictional character of a book or a show, but as a real person of flesh and blood. From fiction I know that he is a quiet, reserved and honor bound man. A man that even his enemies would come to respect. What I don't know is whether he was always like that or would he become like that after the rebellion. There were many unknowns about this whole situation. Adopting a wait and see on the fly attitude seemed prudent.

What I see before me and what I know as a fact is that he appears to be a young man in his late teens early twenties. Who recently for a medieval setting lost both his father and elder brother and had his sister disappear on him. In response he raised an army numbering several thousand at least.

He finishes his task and looks up gesturing for me to take a seat. As I do so we decend into silence both trying to get a measure for the other and damn is that guy unnerving. It is difficult to hold my composure, but I manage. I figure since I am here at his order that he likely has something to say, and it is only polite to let him start this conversation. If he wants to sit here all day that is fine, but there should at least be some of that horrible wine for me to drink.

A few minutes pass and the waiting is finally over.

"Lord Lane I hope that you are well rested and have found the accommodations to your satisfaction." he says in a even no nonsense voice.

I raise an eyebrow at that, but nod and reply "Marcus, please and the accommodations aren't the issue here are they." For a moment thinking that I might be pushing it a little, but since the strategy here is to wing it I give it little thought.

He mulls my name over as if debating something and says "Very well to business then Marcus. Myself and lord Tully have discussed the events of the day past at length and while much is still unknown we have judged you to be sincere and seem as lost as us on the matter. To that end as you seem quite fit and of noble birth even thou from lands unknown. I would like to offer you a place among my retinue."

That man has a very strong and commanding presence I thought as I seemed to be mulling the offer. So much so that I nearly didn't catch the fact how many assumptions he seems to be making or the fact he and the Tully character seem to be making a lot of the choices for me, however I let it slide for now as this is a much better deal than any I was hoping to get from them. As there is a war going on in their thoughts seem to be that either I'm with them or against them.

I don't seem to have a choice in the mater, but politeness sake I nod and give my reply n turn "I accept your most generous offer, however there are a few issues that need to be addressed such as the fact that my people fight war in a completely different way to your people. While skilled in unarmed combat, my skills with a sword are quite rusty and there is also the fact that I have no armor of my own."

He nods at me a little confused, but waves my concerns off by saying "Sir Denys Arryn will be here shortly to show you around and have you fitted for armor for it will do you no good to enter combat in your finery. In a few days time we march on the Stoney Sept to relive lord Robert Baratheon I suggest you use that time improve your skills." Pausing for a moment he asks in turn "That Dagger of yours. What is it made of, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Steel my lord. My people mastered it's secrets some centuries past. It is nothing particularly special." The look on Lord Stark's face was picture worthy. Shame I can't take one. Seeing as losing composure is probably quiet rare for the guy.

"I beg to differ. Valyrian steel is a lost art in our lands." However before he could say more a knight resplendent in full plate sans helmet walked into the tent.

"Yes Sir Denys show Lord Lane around the camp and have him fitted with arms and armor as he sees fit. He will be joining us in this campaign. That is all." With that said I stand up joining the now named Sir Denys as we take that as the dismissal that it is and we make our way once more outside into the wider camp.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The two days that fallowed were hectic in the extreme for the newly minted lord Marcus Lane or at least the locals thought him a lord of some distant land they had no ken of. Finding his place in the camp was difficult but he did never the less.

First he found himself in front of the camps blacksmith surveying his goods and trying to decide on how best to equip himself for what is to come.

In the end he decided on a rather plain iron short sword that was entirely unremarkable as well as a pair of iron arm and shin guards that went over the newly procured chain mail that he wore over his battle dress uniform. That particular selection got him quite a few raised eyebrows, since there was no lord on the field of battle as lightly armed as he was. Compared to his fellows he seemed entirely out of place. However considering that he came from a society that valued speed and precision placing emphasize on those two traits above all else. His choice should be logical, but his companions did not know that. The contrast was even bigger considering that he was supposed to follow Sir Denys Arryn's lead who was in charge of the heavy infantry in the coming battle. All of them resplendent in plate armor and tower shields.

As to the noble sir Denys, he was the epitome of a knight handsome, dashing and noble utterly convinced in the righteousness of his calling. Maybe it was because he was young or he was simply naive. It mattered not. He was also a champion swordsman that has studied his craft his whole life a lesson Marcus learned the hard way when they first sparred.

Marcus was a fast learner plus his service in the core made him no stranger to fighting his fellow man. After the first few bouts where he was trounced quite completely however the gathered audience that was there to watch how the foreigner performed started to laugh and jeer. At that point the young lord Marcus lost his nerve threw his practice sword to the ground and issued a challenge to any who felt men enough to face him in unarmed combat to step up and show what they are made of. Utilizing his combat skills he quickly took down seven challengers in quick succession including sir Denys. The man were easy to fight having the skills of bar room brawlers at best simply throwing punches and hoping they connect. After that sparing proceeded without much further disruption.

Later that night he was invited the lords feasting hall, which was a large tent where the lords gathered to supp and discuss matters of war as it were. There he had more face time with lords Tully and Stark. Where upon asking what his duties as a member of lord Starks retinue would entail was told that for now he would be with sir Denys and his troops until his skills at combat were further proven even though his skill in unarmed combat was impressive to say the least. After all you can not kill a men with your bare hands as easily as with as sword.

Thus we find our intrepid adventurer and sir Denys crouched in the shrubbery outside of a town with a wall of solid stone facing them and sir Denys's men, of whom some carried ladders. The wall itself seem unoccupied which seemed strange to Marcus however he was told that the royalist army was within the city searching for lord Robert Baratheon and his forces. The forces Sir Denys commanded were to be the vanguard of the rebel force. Thus first over the wall in order to engage the enemy. The signal that they now all waited for was the tolling of the village bells atop of the sept.

Marcus lay clad in his new chainmail with his holster for the colt on his right side and the scabbard on his left. Ready for the bells to toll, Humming quietly "for whom the bell tolls" under his breath.

He had gotten somewhat good in his opinion with a blade being quick on his feet, however knowing what house to house fighting entailed having experienced it before himself in Iraq. Here he wouldn't be facing goat herders with equipment that worked only some of the time and wouldn't be able to call for aid or air support. It made him worry a little, in his mind he wasn't nearly ready enough, but he would have to make due with what he has at hand, which admittedly wasn't much, but at least he had his colt .45 to even the odds if it came to that.

Like thunder in his veins the bell suddenly began to ring and the man all around him erupted in battle cries as they began to rise.

Marcus steadied himself and began to fallow sir Denys as they ran towards the walls, easily keeping up with him due to the fact that he wasn't nearly as encumbering as him. Once they reached the wall they waited for the closest ladder to be erected. In the meanwhile Marcus observed the tree line come to life as thousands of men started to come out of the tree line and surge for the walls.

A ladder was soon erected and he followed Sir Denys as he ascended the closest bit of wall to the main gate house. So far they were unopposed, however that was soon to change.

As Marcus reached the top he found it barren of enemy forces. What lay beyond the wall was two rows of houses made of large stone blocks with hay laden roofs that lead to a square with a fountain that had a statue of a giant fish at its center. Here he lay his first gaze at the enemy. They all had a red dragon adorning either the armor they wore if they wore non then the shield had one and there seemed to be quite a few of them knocking down doors and searching houses.

"This way" sir Denys shouted as he began to descend the gatehouse and Marcus in tow.

As they reached the bottom and exited the gatehouse they saw that thirty man of the force before them heading for Sir Denys and his force.

At this point Marcus drew his colt in the left hand and short sword in the right and prepared rid himself of all unnecessary thought after all it would be a long day of slaughter and it would not do to be among those slaughtered.

Soon the battle was joined as the rebel heavy infantry force began it's push for the square. Time seemed to craw to a stop as it often did in the midst of heated combat.

Sir Denys was truly gifted as he wrought a bloody trail severing limbs and heads with his long sword. Marcus still in tow killing any sir Denys missed. By now he had sheathed his colt feeling that he might not need it as the battle seemed to be in favor of the rebels and a equalizer of the forces was not required. Preferring instead to wield his short sword more effectively and dodging and sidestepping with ease where a parry might be ineffective or simply not possible.

It seemed like hours before they began reach the center of the vilage as more and more soldiers joined the fray on both sides, however Marcus and sir Denys began to slowly but steadily near the center square. Marcus by this point was drenched in blood using both his combat knife and the short sword to great effect on the enemy. He knew not how many he must have killed for he had no time to think such thoughts as enemy upon enemy descended upon him screaming bloody murder. He was beginning to tire as further into the center they reached the opponents seemed to become more skilled or simply better armed. The adrenaline and blood lust were keeping him going as he almost methodically ended the lives of many that lay before him. Unlike with the spars where he held a leisurely pace and held back some here it was kill or be killed and he intended to show his all, driven by the strong desire to survive this carnage.

As they reached the center square trough the fog of carnage he could see that this seemed to be the last strong point the enemy held from all other roads into the square save one the rebels seemed to be pouring in rallying behind a man that bore an antlered helm.

As the fighting continued around him he took a breather to assess the situation on his end. He only briefly noted that he was covered in blood not his own as if he had taken a bath in it. They seemed to be gaining ground, if at a more sedate pace. All around him the cries for blood and the anguish of the dying could be heard over the general din of battle.

All of a sudden as Marcus spied sir Denys dispatching another opponent a helmless knight with red hair and a tabard emblazoned with twin griffons on red and white came barging out from one of the buildings knocking sir Denys's big tower shield aside and delivering a blow to sir Denys across his front plate staggering him. At this Marcus decided that as this was no mare luck on the nameless knight's part and since he were likely next and not nearly as skilled with a blade as sir Denys the he would need to stack the deck in his own favor. As the nameless knight is about to deliver the finishing blow Marcus drops to one knee and discards both his combat knife and sword while in a single smooth motion draws his dependable colt .45 aims it at the knights center of mass and fires two round at the knight in the nick of time before he could finish sir Denys off for good.

Holstering the smoking gun. He picks up his knife and sword and lunges for the now staggering knight. Ignoring the fact that the shots seemed have been heard throughout the field of battle and have had the effect of momentarily halting the battle or at this point simply not caring.

The knight tries to swing at Marcus weakly, but he simply blocks with arm grieve while letting the momentum carry him forward and shoves the combat knife at the knights side between the heavy plates that protect him and then he twists for good measure.

Withdrawing slightly to see the effects of his handy work, while the knight finally drops on both knees his legs no longer able to carry his own weight. Marcus grabs him by his crimson hair and with one fluid motion beheads him with his sword.

Raising the severed head high for all to see he throws it towards the enemy and shouts "Have at thee you mangy mutts"

At this point the bloodied and battered remnants of the royal army having been shaken out of their stupor began to flee and as the rebels begin to pursue them a deep voice echoes through the square "Let the dogs flee to the dragon fucker, we are coming for him next."

As Marcus drops down having finally fought his last, he craws towards sir Denys to check for a pulse. As he finds one he looks around only to notice a quad of knights with the Arryn sigil on their tabards come towards him "You four come here, now!" He says gesturing with his sword at the knights.

As they reach him he begins to drowsily climb on his feet only to be steadied by one of the allied knights "You two sir Denys is wounded, but alive. You are to bring him to where ever the tent for the wounded is immediately." as two of the knights hurry to comply having witnessed the ferocity of the young lord before them and not wanting to earn his ire. "The two of you are to gather some men and begin to man the walls of this village on alternating schedule post haste." he finishes to the two remaining knights and as he watches them leave to carry out his order he begins to slowly move towards the fountain stepping over the bodies of both friend and foe alike paying them little attention.

Reaching the fountain he moves the body of a fallen warrior and sheathing his weapons sits on its edge. Adrenaline finally leaving him he feels for the first time since the battle began tired and sore as if the world is pressing down upon him. He sits there for a unknown amount of time mealy watching as the various warriors begin to colect the bodies of the dead and the dying as well as striping enemy soldiers of their possessions. His gaze hallow.

It is finally over the only thought in his head that makes sense. He must have killed at least a hundred man today if not more and looking at it now the distance travelled from the gates to here was barely 500 meters if that. Looking towards the sky and suddenly the oddest thought pops into his head a quote to be precise one he read way back in high school "God is a comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh" and in that moment he himself begins to laugh. The passerby's giving him strange looks, but he ignores them.

After a moment he collects himself and gathering his strength turns toward the bloodstained pool of water that lay within the fountain and he spots his reflection. His hair wild and bloodstained drops of blood still dripping from his bangs. His nearly covered whole of blood from dozens of men that will not see another day break. His battle dress uniform underneath his chainmail previously green was painted crimson with the blood of his enemies.

He began to slowly wash first his hands than his head and face stopping only to bat away the floating corps of warrior. Cleaning himself he began to feel revitalized to an extent while still sore and tired, he once more began to feel his lower extremities something was unable to do since he first sat down.

At this moment a pair of men-at-arms barring a wolfs head on their shields approaches him and standing a little straighter one of them speaks "My lord your presence is requested at once"

Marcus raises an eyebrow now devoid of blood at that and even the stoic and hardy northman begins to fidget slightly, but after a couple of seconds offers him an arm in order to get up which he grasps and pulls. They then turn about and begin to lead him through the noticeably emptier square towards one of the buildings. Either the soldiers were a lot more efficient at cleaning up than he gave them credit or simply and more likely was that more time has passed than he thought.

The warriors stopped at the entrance and as he entered he found himself staring at a table full of lords, however of those gathered he could only recognize Eddard Stark and Hoster Tully. He sat on a empty chair across from lord Stark and reached to pour himself a goblet of wine only to chug it in a single sip and to have to pour another not even noticing the taste, it might as well have been that piss he drank at the camp, but he neither cared or minded at the moment so long as it was alcohol.

He paid the conversation little mind, preferring to sip from his goblet that is until lord Stark finally turns to acknowledging your presence on the table.

"Lord Lane, good of you to finally join us." He says as stoic as the last time we met.

"I wasn't aware I was expected. I came when summoned." The afore mentioned lord Lane says in a even tone looking lord Stark in straight in the eyes, this time however he wasn't unnerved in the slightest either, because he was getting immune to his stare or he simply didn't car at this point.

"So this is the little beast that lobbed Connington's head of eh?" A lean and muscular bearded man to the left and at the head of the table says after taking a generous sip from his own goblet. The most notable thing about him was the antlered helm he had in front of him. This probably made him Lord Robert Baratheon the future king of the seven Kingdoms.

"Was he supposed to be someone of importance, my bad." Marcus replies coolly before he takes a sip of his wine.

"Ha... someone important he says. He was the hand of the mad king may he rot in hell and a traitor to the Stormlands. Well done lad." With a voice full of mirth he replies.

"Not before he got Sir Denys though. How is he by the way? Any news?" Marcus says directing the last part towards Lord Stark.

"He was gravely wounded, but will survive thanks to you... it will however take him time to recover." Lord Stark replies without missing a beat, probably to used to Robert's antics by now.

"Bah... enough of this seriousness. Let's celebrate. We will talk of these matters in the morning." Lord Baratheon interrupts lifting his cup in a toast.

"As you wish." lord Stark says somewhat chastised.

"How was a man to know there is no food and what piss poor wine there was seems to have run out. So not much of a celebration is it?" Marcus snarks, while trying to squeeze the last few drops from the flask.

The future king frowns at that and for a moment Marcus wonders if he should ready himself to draw his gun after all the sword won't do him much good. It having probably rusted by now with all that blood coating it. However lord Baratheon turns to his side and shouts "Wench bring more wine and it better be the good stuff this time and some food while your at it." turning to Marcus he adds "HeHe... I like this one Ned unlike the rest of you lot seems to have a sense of humor." At that the rest of the room seems to ease in to their chairs once more.

It turns out that the building happens to be a brothel as proven by the fact that several scantily clad girls if not downright naked carry more refreshments and trays of food from somewhere into the hall and the victory celebration begins.

Late into the night with alcohol induced strength the victorious hero and newly affirmed lord Marcus Lane retires with two buxom girls of dubious maidenhood to one of the rooms for some much deserved rest and relaxation, how much of the will be rest is yet to be seen.

All he needed now was a castle and he would be content.

** XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The victory celebration turned into a five day binge with copious amount of whores and enough wine to drown ten men easily. It was a thing straight out of Roman times when the legion would return victorious from a campaign against one barbarian horde or another. Marcus thought the comparison fitting seeing as Robert Baratheon seem to drink like one at least and if that is the sort of celebration to be expected after every victory no matter how small, than this was going to be one hell of a ride.

Five days later the future king was still going at it. It is to be said that at this point he probably couldn't say his own name as he lay somewhere inside the brothel covered in his own piss and vomit. Marcus was nursing a huge headache in one of the rooms on the upper floors still being able to hear the gurgling sounds coming from downstairs. He cursed the sun for being so bright, but most of all he cursed this world for having no coffee. The only way to quickly kill this hangover was with more alcohol and this point this was something he was unwilling to do least he fall back on the bandwagon. He gazed outside the window at the square with that idiotic giant fish at its center and could hardly tell there was a battle here not too long ago.

Marcus was interrupted by girls behind him as they beckoned him to come back to bed, but he payed them no mind as he began to donne his own apparel and pondering his probable state of mind as to why exactly he decided that laying with two STD riddled medieval whores was a good idea he did not know.

That done he stealthily made his way out of the brothel hoping not to be seen by one of the remaining lords and knights still in said brothel enjoying Robert Baratheon's generosity for a victory well fought. He paid the bender little mind now that it was over as he strolled thru the city intent on finding lord Stark he had after all things he needed to talk to him about.

At the gates he met Lord William Dustin also a member of Lord Stark's retinue as it turned out. He was a large big boned man with a face full of scars covered in furs wielding large twin war axes. Quite the notable character all in all. Walking together towards the command tent as it turned out Lord Stark was a man of the troops in Marcus's opinion that was a good thing in a commander.

"The beast of the bells they now call you. Did you know?" Lord William Dustin quietly comments as they walk side by side striking quite the strange sight.

Stumbling over his own step as he hears this Marcus comments „Do they now and here I thought this was just the King talking bald as it were."

"Had you not killed lord Connington the way you did perhaps, but you did and now the troops talk of it. Some have even said you drink the blood of your enemies." Lord Dustin comments without breaking his stride.

"Next thing you hear I'll be as large as three men with horns on my head and belching fire left and right." Marcus snorts at the notion and asks in return "I'm more interested of what you think of the whole affair and less in the usual tall tales the troops spin after a battle"

At this lord Dustin ponders for a few moments and replies in his seemingly uncaring northern standard "I didn't see the main event, but I did see you briefly I reckon fighting besides Sir Denys on the main street... It would seem you are not without skill, regardless of how it may appear. I confess I had my doubts about you myself, but you have so far shown yourself to be a good if unconventional warrior."

Humbled by the praise of the big man and knowing that northman use it sparingly Marcus replies "Thank you for the kind words lord Dustin and let us hope we won't have need of these skills that often, but in war a man never knows."

He simply nods without comment as they navigate the camp towards the main tent. The troops as always trot about doing their various duties paying them no mind.

Here Lord Dustin bids Marcus farewell citing the need to check on his men, but gives directions.

As Marcus finally finds the main tent he enters without word and silently sits across lord Stark who is sitting on the same table from last time and again writing something or another on the parchment before him and as last time Marcus waits.

Lord Stark looks up in but a few moments, once he sees Marcus his face still as stone and yet his eyes slightly betray his mirth at seeing you up and about after the festivities.

"Ah lord Lane I see the festivities have ended" Stark says in way of greeting.

"For me they have. The king is still going at it." Taking a pause Marcus adds "I am no stranger to a good festivity, but this was pushing it. I would have preferred, if we did this bit once lord Baratheon was already on the iron throne, but we can't all have what we want." He finishes.

Lord Stark nods a little at that knowing all too well how his friend is and simply accepting it.

Marcus chimes in after a moment "First call me Marcus. It seems somewhat obtuse being all formal when it is just the two of us and it makes me feel like I'm being judged. The more pressing issue here, if I may be bold is that our little celebration is giving the enemy precious time to recover and regroup."

"Marcus then" Stark nods, but does not continue contemplating for a moment and the adds "Your ring true, however on the other hand it gives us time to rally more troops to our cause. Many lords in the Riverlands and the Vale are still undecided."

"True however what if they decide they are against us. That could be a real problem for us." Marcus counters quickly and the adds as an afterthought "What of sir Denys. He fought bravely, were he not ambushed he would still be with us."

"He is recovering. He woke up last night finally, however he will be in no shape to fight any time soon." Lord Stark says eliciting a raised eyebrow from Marcus at how long that has taken.

"That is good to hear. I must go see him when I have the time, however with my shadow no longer with me what would you have me do my lord." Marcus asks of the wolf lord.

Both man sit in silence pondering the issue, until finally lord Stark answers "I have decided that since you have distinguished yourself in the battle past that you are to command sir Denys's contingent of heavy foot numbering three hundred strong in the battles to come until told otherwise, however speaking of the battle, I have been meaning to ask, but there was never time. That load noise in the squire how did you make it. I am curious."

Marcus nods at the blatant recognition by one of the premier lords of Westeros. Being given men of his own to command was a great honor. It would seem he has finally proven his worth to lord Stark at least or so it would seem. The last part gave him pause however as he wondered what tell him, but he should tell him something. The men before him was no fool, he would smell bullshit for what it was.

Finally Marcus unholsters his gun takes out the chambered round and puts both the bullet and gun on the table, then says to the lord "This is the preferred weapon of my people, while loud by your standards is quite efficient and easy to use. Only minimal training is needed. It fires small metal projectiles at the speed of sound. When used in numbers they could prove a deciding factor in any battle."

Lord Stark is noticeable shocked by what he hears from you, that being the first outright show of emotion Marcus has seen on the man, but then frowns with some skepticism evident on his features and asks "Truly?"

Marcus nodding replies "Yes. My people have a saying all are equal in front of a bullet. I could show you but the ammunition is scarce on me and would be hard to replace." he finishes by picking up the bullet and pretending to examine it.

Thinking hard on the issue lord Stark finally asks "Can you make more of this miracle weapon of yours to aid our cause?"

Frowning Marcus replies apologetically "Sadly not. The infrastructure isn't there it would take months if not years at the best of times to produce even crude replica and these don't seem to be good times to me."

Lord Stark looks disappointed by this "But you can make them eventually correct?"

Nodding Marcus answers honestly "It will take quite some time to be able to produce them easily, but yes with some considerable initial effort I believe it is doable."

Stark regaining his composure simply nods "A matter for another time then."

Nodding Marcus make to leave and says "Now if you will excuse me apparently I have men to inspect."

Lord Stark simply nods to that and says "Why is it every time we meet I learn something new and extraordinary from you Marcus"

Smirking while turning slightly to face his new lord Marcus replies "No idea, but then again we learn as we live or so the saying goes. Well my people have such a saying"


	2. Chapter 2

It has been a long day for one Marcus Lane. He sat on a table inside his new tent nursing another flagon of piss poor wine that seemed to be the camps specialty. He was currently camped outside the Stoney Sept along with his new command of three hundred vale knights and wasn't that a strange thought him a former marine commanding armored knights. The only bright side to this day seemed to be that as of yet he was not pissing fire and he did indeed check, so that would mean that he took a bite out of the proverbial bullet in regards to his escapade in the whore house.

First on the day's agenda was to check with Sir Denys and see how he was recovering for himself. There he spent several hours keeping him company and discussing the battle. Sir Denys seemed quite grateful for Marcus's timely intervention, after all better wounded than dead. Here was also where Marcus met Sir Adam Donniger the second in command of sir Denys's three hundred heavy foot. The way Marcus understood it he acted less as a second in command and more as NCO to the men and how exactly that worked was anyone's guess. Sir Adam was not amused by being told however that a foreign lord would have command of him and his men, however with the backing of Sir Denys he seemed to accept it, if grudgingly.

After that Marcus and Sir Adam moved the conversation to another tent in order to seize the other up as it were. Marcus then found out that Sir Adam was one of the knights to come to his aid and carry Sir Denys off the battlefield.

As it turned out since sir Adam and the more senior knights were quite close to you and sir Denys during the battle the issue of competence was no longer as valid as it was prior to the battle. No the issue sir Adam seemed to be having with Marcus as a commander seemed to stem from the fact that he was a foreigner placed in command by a northern lord. While he had legitimate concerns, that Marcus can sympathize with and has experienced himself to a point were a problem for the future, if they were to fight effectively.

The most conflict they seemed to be having however was over Marcus's choice in armor or lack thereof. Marcus was insistent on speed, while Sir Adam adamant on him wearing full plate. While Sir Adam's arguments and reasons were both many and valid Marcus was pretty sure that it just raised his hackles to be led by a man he thought of as outright naked on the field of battle. In the end the decision was reached for Marcus to be outfitted with a striped down version of plate on the morn.

However the biggest headache of the day was once he learned that a heavy foot that was made up mostly of knights was less a cohesive force and more of a armed mob where every man fought for himself in a disorganized fashion once the signal to advance was given. They were all skilled and disciplined to be sure in the ways of fighting and war, but only when as it turned out they fought as individuals. That vary thought galled Marcus who was drilled mercilessly in the value of teamwork and indeed has seen its merits first hand.

Perhaps he should try and put some order into them, however it would have been much easier to drill this into peasants than the knights he had who all thought they knew better than him. The best part and this was the part that gave him the real headache was he nly had between one and three weeks to do so before the next battle.

However the dawn is wiser and hopefully new ideas would present themselves before he had to make any decisions. For now however he was at a loss as to what to do with his newfound command.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

It is four weeks hence that we find Marcus Lane brooding and staring over a field, sober in mind and spirit, more sober than he has been since he got here with a few exceptions. For tomorrow a new battle was to be waged on the trident. Standing atop a hill surveying the future field of battle resplendent in his new plate armor. The armor itself was pretty standard for the realm all except the helm. For his helm he had chosen instead to have helmet more akin to a Spartan hoplite, plumage included than a knights.

His effort at that point has hit a snag when asked what to put as the sigil. Where he had to think fast as to not rise suspicion as to his origin and had given the first noble sigil that he could think of to fit the role. Which so happened to be the byzantine cross for whatever reason, it fit the bill however and his was given not even a glance for it. He wasn't particularly happy with his own choice on the matter, but now was not the time to second guess himself.

Marcus thought with a heavy heart on his efforts to at least bring some unit cohesion into his little force but all was for naught.

It was thought a great honor among the locals to be leading the vanguard of the attack, especially that he would be leading battle hardened and experienced knights, but they did not know what he knew in regards war and it's ways. His talent for it was wasted on these knights.

His efforts to form his three hundred men into a phalanx were met with derision by the man and even sir Adam thought him mad for it. Marcus had given up on teaching the simpletons anything at that point and instead decided to spend his time more productively, if he could not have the advantage in the coming battle by having a superior force to that of the enemy, than he would simply have to cheat in order to have said advantage. There is after all no such thing as cheating when it comes to war. It was a shame however that he could not have a phalanx to show off his superior military knowledge to the other lords.

The men would follow him into battle willingly and wouldn't dare oppose him, not after the whole rebel host had joined together at Riverrun. Where lord Jon Arryn himself congratulated him for his part in the battle of the Stoney Sept and had whole heartedly approved of the move by lord Stark and to show his own appreciation has awarded Marcus with a thousand golden dragons for his rescue of sir Denys. Who as it turned out was lord Arryn's only heir at the moment.

For his part Marcus mealy accepted the gift with the appropriate amount of procrastination, where such matters are concerned. He thought little of Jon Arryn himself. Where both Stark and Baratheon had a large commanding presence, both in entirely different ways. Lord Arryn by comparison was nothing special, he had not attributes to set him apart or elevate him above the other lords that he commanded.

Marcus would later learn that the amount he was offered for a mare lucky happenstance was an enormous amount. Since his full ensemble of armor had only cost him four dragons. Doing quite some mantle math he coveted the value of single golden dragon to somewhere over ten thousand euro or more than fifteen thousand in dollars. Now while that wasn't an exact amount, since the math was a little complicated to be done without actually writing anything down on paper. The amount turned out to be quite the fortune here or anywhere for that matter. Apparently lord Arryn was quite the generous man in his appreciation.

The fortune was a welcome resource Marcus was looking into utilizing in order to offset the disadvantage he would be in by wearing so much armor during the coming battle. However he was already wearing what westerosi would consider some of the best protection available and unfortunately so was the enemy and there lay the problem. With so little time to prepare he had few options, even with the minor fortune he now possessed.

With every day that passed he was beginning to worry whether he would survive the battle to come and from what he remembered from his own world while the battle would likely be the last real battle of the war it was also to be the biggest one yet and all information he was able to gather due to his access to the high lords pointed to the same. The battle for the Stoney Sept by comparison was nothing special. He wasn't worried who would win the battle, no what he was worried was whether he would survive it or not.

The best that he could do on such short notice and lack of many needed materials was to have a crossbow maker commissioned to build him a small arm mounted one shot crossbow, for which he himself has provided the schematics after hours of laboring on them. It wasn't his best work but it would have to do at least for the battle at hand.

His prayers were finally answered however at Riverrun when after many enquiries about alchemists. One finally came forth. It was a bald beady looking man that reminded Marcus of a rat after cheese. His looks however were irrelevant only his skills and while medieval version of napalm would have been quite frankly awesome to have. The fact however that it had the stability of nitro glycerin was extremely off putting.

In the end Marcus decided to have the man produce gunpowder for him. It turned out that while the man didn't know what it was he did know what and where to find the ingredients for it and after hours of schooling by Marcus on the correct mix of ingredients was confident he could accomplish the task at hand. Having gunpowder was a great boon for Marcus. It meant that he could now easily build pipe bombs. All that the construction of a pipe bomb required was gunpowder that he would soon have, nails to use as shrapnel and a pipe, for which he used small pieces of half a foot long brass pipe.

That is to say however while the use of an alchemist was a god send to Marcus. The association with one was highly frowned upon by his fellow lords, since it was rumored that king Aerys relied heavily on them.

He was even called upon by Lord Stark to explain himself and his current actions, which was a first since he got to these lands. While that was a worrying encounter to say the least, the promise of me show casing a new gadget seemed to assuage his fears somewhat. The alchemist was simply to o valuable to let go of so easily. Once Marcus explained that it was simply the only person he could give a certain task to that was specifically stated not to be wildfire did Lord Stark seem to drop the issue. However he was still displeased with the issue. In hindsight it should have been obvious that the presence of an alchemist would make the lords nervous, since they were best known for their creation of wildfire.

Those events while served to lighten his fears for the coming battle also raised entirely new ones.

Now however on the eve of battle even with three shiny new pipe bombs and a miniature crossbow strapped to his arm that confidence seems to have fled. The scouts reported the day before a royal army of equal number to that of the rebels. That in on itself was worrying enough. The battle of the Stoney Sept only had no more ten thousand combatants on both sides. Here the combined number was close to seventy thousand with thirty five each. What was even more worrying was that it would seem that a member of the royal family was leading them. Marcus's own memory suggested that it was the crown prince himself. He himself would be fighting in the very front of what is soon to be one enormous melee. Both armies were little more than two armed and disorganized mobs with some semblance of control. Control that was likely to vanish as soon as the battle was joined and he would have a front row seat to the carnage and yet again either be making said carnage or simply a result of it. The latter was what for four weeks was attempting to prevent.

The various lords were celebrating tonight. All save Lord Stark it would seem. Marcus himself would abstain from the feasting going about after all tomorrow was a day of reckoning. He had expressly forbidden his own troops to partake in the festivities vowing instead to gut any man who showed up to the battle hangover, however he had offered to treat the survivors to an all expense paid feast once the battle was won.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Morning came to little fanfare as Marcus dressed in his pseudo hoplite armor. Holstered his gun and his sword, along with his combat knife. Then he carefully checked the three pipe bombs and clipped them to his belt after pocketing his dependable Zippo. His survival depended on those bombs even more so than the gun. Last but not least he hefted his new iron shield that had his new sigil on it much like the one on his tabard.

After that came chaos as thousands of man rushed to get into position and form the battle lines. This was an honest first for Marcus. He thought it silly as he and his man assembled on the east bank of the green fork. It took them little time to gather. After issuing a few quick orders to his men to hold fast and await the signal they were ready or at least thought they were for what was to come.

Next came the waiting. He knew not why they waited for the enemy army to gather, nor did he really care to be honest. It gave him however ample time to observe the battle lines, both his own and those of the enemy as they formed. It was an impressive sight to be sure. A display of man, iron and horse like none other than he had seen before.

Both forces were arranging at some five hundred meters from each other with the crossing of the green fork between them like a clear divide. A divide that would stop neither man, nor horse, but a divide none the less.

Griped by fear as he realized that this mightn't be as easy as he thought Marcus ever the less stilled himself for what was to come. Live or die it was too late to back out now. His skills would be tested to his limits and beyond. As far as he could remember of this battle from his own world, the enemy force will scatter once Rhaergar was killed by Robert Baratheon. How long that would take is anybody's guess. This was the real world and not some made up fantasy that some fat guy came up with. It could be hours or it could be minutes. Personally Marcus wasn't holding his breath for the latter. All he had to do was survive. It was someone else's job to win this fight thankfully.

Soon the waiting seemed to be over as Robert Baratheon started going across the line back and forth, giving a speech of some sort, however Marcus couldn't hear a thing after the first few words. It was either because he was too far away from the source of the shouting or the cheering of the men around him was just that loud. Either way he told Sir Adam to keep an eye out for the signal as they were slightly ahead of the rest of the troops.

And then after the speech was over it came. Trumpets it was to be this time, instead of bells. To Marcus it sounded a lot like those clocks you see in westerns striking noon.

As one the line surged forward and the enemy soon responded in kind.

As Marcus ran he unclipped one of the pipe bombs from his belt and set it alight and threw it with all his might ahead and to the left of him over the enemy ranks and then another this time to the right of himself.

There was no time to see his handy work or do much else, but use his shield as a battering ram as both formations clashed with the other. He griped his sword and began cutting and slashing at enemies for they were everywhere and as he killed one another took his place. There was no respite as men were packed like sardines on both sides.

Just as he thought happy thoughts after the sixth man he had killed, on how he was going to slowly and painfully kill that rat faced alchemist for giving him a bad batch of gunpowder. It happened. Two large explosions one after the other on both sides of him, apparently the impromptu cord was longer than was needed for the task at hand.

He couldn't see much as he was too busy picking himself up from the riverbed.

_'Way too much gunpowder' _he thought as he stood up to survey the field.

All around him men were doing the same. It would seem the explosions were too close to his own forces and far bigger than he thought. While it would seem by a stroke of luck or the simple fact that there were too many bodies to be hit before them that few if any were severely harmed by the explosion.

His ears still ringing he shouted to them while gesturing with his sword „Stand fast! "

That seemed to shake at least some out of the stupor they were in as they began to advance.

„Hold the line! " He again shouted as he could see the enemy committing some reserve force or simply there forces were that big.

The man obeyed without hesitation as they readied themselves for the charging enemy.

As he unclipped the last bomb and waited for the enemy, Marcus observed what was left of the force that came before them, it was simply a mangled wreck of body parts and iron strewn about.

He lit the impromptu fuse and again threw it after a second at the enemy directly ahead of him this time. As it landed in front of the advancing force it strolled over it heedless of the danger, even though it might have seen what happened to the once that came before them.

„Hold! " He shouted to his own troops as they were becoming weary.

„Hold! " He repeated as he waited for the explosion and it came. This time he could clearly see the explosion and its effect on the enemy as body parts began flying every which way and the enemies' front rank was propelled forward as if thrown like ragged dolls.

This was something he was no stranger to. He had seen it all before, probably not quite this severe from an overpowered pipe bomb, but nevertheless. His men however have not as they stared in open awe as well as shock and horror at what has befallen the enemy.

Again the way forward seemed to be clear of obstacles'. To the side however it was a different story. As even thru events they have never seen the likes of the battle raged on. The forces of the other lords taking advantage of the gap in the center as the enemy forces there seem to simply disappear time and again in a spray of gore, guts and blood.

„Now! Forward! "Marcus shouts to his men. Having lost his shield during the first set of explosions he takes out his gun and picks up a sword from the mess on the riverbed.

His forces rush to obey. Fear now instilled deep in the hearts of the men and none wanting to displease the lord able to do what he just so callously did. They didn't know that he ran out of the explosives, nor did they care as they began dispatching the few royalists that began to pick themselves of the ground.

A third force tried yet again to fill the gap Marcus had made in the enemies center. He could hear the fighting raging on all around him as he steadily made his way forward. Warriors surging forward all around him and somehow managing to give him a wide berth.

As he neared the new melee he began firing at the enemy slowly and methodically he picked his targets. One then two, then three. He made every shot count. Soon the hammer clicked on empty and he holstered the gun not wanting to waste more of the precious ammo for it.

This was it with just a sword and a now damaged from the fall miniature crossbow. He jumped again into the fray hacking and slashing at any foolish enough to be in his way.

Everywhere he looked there seemed to be small pockets of man fighting. There was no longer a line or a semblance of order. Directions have become irrelevant as the fighting was all around him.

The screams of man and the clashing of iron were the only sound that the air seemed to carry.

Soon it was over the enemy begun to run in every possible direction. Hoping to save their own lives and no longer caring for one lord or another.

They ran preferring to take a chance at the wilderness, instead of the mailed fist of the rebels.

Surveying the field all that could be seen was carnage and a river awash with the crimson of the blood of rebels and royalists alike.

This time he headed straight for the camp preferring not to linger over the field like the last battle and as he was still hyped up on adrenaline he could feel neither pain nor aches.

It was done Marcus thought. He had survived the battle. Most of it was a blur aside from the beginning and his little insane stunt. The stunt itself had a higher likelihood of killing him than the enemy.

He had arrived at the command tent after a few minutes. Why the command tent? Well it simply had the best booze in the entire camp short of lord Bartheon's tent of course.

He sat there and waited for an hour or so he didn't know he had no accurate way to tell time in these lands.

He judged the time by the amount of wine he had consumed, while waiting.

Soon the lords piled into the tent at once, with Lord Stark supporting an injured Robert Baratheon and a maester trailing behind them.

They noticed him almost at once, but Marcus paid them no mind for the moment.

That is until Robert roared „What in the sevens name was that Lane? "

Marcus looks up at that and cheekily replies „Well you would have to be a little more specific than that. "

„Don't play dumb with me. That whatever you did once the battle was joined. "He clarified a little annoyed.

„I too would like an answer to that? "Lord Stark demands quietly at Robert's side.

Taking it a little more seriously now that all the high lords present were staring at him and demanding answers he decided to confuse them even more by telling them the complete truth „It was a series of pipe bombs. Quite simple actually it was what I had that alchemist making a while back. "

They simply stare at him for a moment and decide to leave it for now as they all look like they have more pressing matters to attend to.

„Shall I leave, now that you all seem to have some pressing business to attend to? " Marcus asks taking this as his queue to leave, before this gets real awkward.

„Stay. " Lord Stark says as he takes a seat next to Marcus. The others were doing likewise around the table.

„The enemy force has been shattered completely in no small part due to the king killing Rheagar and our friend there making the enemy center disappear." Lord Tully says while nodding at Robert and Marcus in turn and then adds „All that stands between us and victory is King's Landing. Once we take that it is over. We need to push the advantage before they find more troops to throw at us. "

„I agree, however the king is wounded maybe it will be best to wait until he recovers. " Lord Arryn rebuffs.

Before the argument could become between them could become heated as Robert as having his wounds tended and Stark only interested in listening Marcus decides it is the perfect time to put his two scents in „We don't have a choice in the matter there are what thirty thousand sieging Storm's End add in another ten or twenty thousand under the command of Tywin Lannister. If we strike at the capitol now we win the war. The way is clear, but it might not be so for long we have to take advantage of that, before the Targaryens put another army in our path."

The table quiets at that. Mulling it over for a few seconds and then Robert swats the maester away and turns towards the table and commands „Ned will take his host and race for King's Landing the rest of us will follow when we can." after a moment's pause he adds with some mirth in his voice „And do keep an eye on this one"

„I will your grace"Stark replies all business.

Marcus takes that as his cue to leave along with Stark as he makes for the exit.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Many things happened during the trip to King's Landing. For one Marcus no longer had troops to command, however his comings and goings were under a lot more scrutiny and he was no longer a honorary member of Lord Stark's retinue. He had to actually pull his own weight with the rough northerners.

The problem was that due to the lack of wine in the northerners host to quite his own demons and he had accumulated quite a few of them during the last few weeks. Sleep or what little of it he could manage was a difficult affair. It did however give him time to think and contemplate what was to come.

Marcus discovered that his earlier thought that the locals possessed no steel was proven wrong. It turns out that some of the soldiers did indeed have steel weapons, but those were few and expensive as he found out by one of the northern lords.

The reason he found out is that he was gifted a steel short sword by Lord Stark once he found out about the fact that Marcus lost his own at the trident. The sword that Lord Stark called castle forged steel, however the quality of it was lacking. A person could see the difference in quality between his combat knife and the sword with a naked eye.

While Marcus didn't know the exact technique the local smiths used to make steel. He knew that he could easily do better. It might take him some time to get it up to the level of what he knew as modern steel, but he could easily do better.

This was merely a curiosity at this point however he could do little with this information now.

Marcus had to put his meager acting skills to good use as one night as he sat around the camp fire with Lord Stark and the other high ranking lords of the north the inevitable question of his sigil came up. It might have been some minor curiosity on their part or it might have been something else. Either way it came about that Marcus had to make up a story of how the cross of Byzantium was his personal sigil. It sounded complete rubbish to Marcus, but the other lords seemed to believe it easily enough.

The most amusing part of the journey was that the soldiers seem to have come up with a new moniker for him "The demon of the Trident" they now called him. In his own opinion that was terribly unimaginative, but that was his own opinion.

More to the point the other lords seem to hold him in good regard as he is now proven himself time and again as a most capable warrior. Marcus was introduced to some of the other members of Starks retinue such as Lord Dustin, Lord Reed and Lord Glover.

The northerner seemed like good if harsh people. It was most likely due to the harsh conditions they lived in.

Throughout the journey the troops were in high spirit. The recent victory and pleasant conditions in the south seems to spur the people onward as if they were merely taking a stroll through the woods.

Marcus used the time he had to repair his arm mounted crossbow. He might have use for it yet after all. He also switched to a lighter armor however he kept the helm.

Marcus was probably the only person in the northern host that knew what awaited them. While he used the argument that the Lannisters were going to reinforce the royalists, he knew differently. There was little hope for those poor souls in that forsaken city now. He could do nothing to prevent that and those very thoughts filled him with dread.

Marcus had the honor of riding at the front of the host along with Lord Stark where he was asked many a question about his own homeland and for the most part he tried to portray nineteen century Europe, for he doubted that he could properly explain what he would consider modern day. It would simply be to alien to them to comprehend.

Even though Lord Stark was a little weary still of him after the stunt he pulled at the Trident. He was beginning to warm up to him after being able to get a greater measure of the man.

When they finally arrived at King's Landing they could smell it before it even came into sight. The smell of burning flesh was unmistakable and what was seen was a nightmare in on itself.

The city was burning. Great plumes of black smoke could be seen rising everywhere in the city ahead. The northerners were appalled by the sight before them. Any cheer or determination seems to have fled them in an instant.

Once the host neared the city they could hear the screams of agony all around them. Those unlucky enough to have nowhere to hide were simply butchered like animals. Men and children alike were simply speared as if their mare presence offended the crimson clad butchers, while women were dragged of to be raped repeatedly by the very same butchers and then disposed of.

This was the sight everywhere in the city. Horrors the like Marcus himself had never in his wildest dreams imagined sights such as this and he simply rode through it all along Ned Stark. It seemed that with every scream every gurgle and every cry for help that would never come something in him died a little. Having been raised on values that even in his darkest hour such things were anathema.

Lord Stark seemed to have had enough as he ordered the cavalry portion to ride ahead at a gallop. Marcus fallowed the enraged lord towards the Reed Keep.

The sight all around them was the same humanity at its darkest and most vile was portrayed. It was truly a funhouse of horrors and depravity unlike any.

None of those with Marcus spoke as they galloped towards the keep. Marcus didn't think that he even could with the large lump of bile forming in his trough.

Soon the party reached the Red Keep the brief gallop felt like eternity to the riders.

Once they dismounted and entered the Keep they began to see signs of actual struggle between the crimson butchers and the last of the loyalist remnants.

Lord Stark made for the Throne room, but Marcus had another idea. He suddenly remembered what the fate of one Elia Martell and her children would be and a fire of determination was lit inside him. There was yet someone he could save in this disgusting and rotten city.

He ran towards Maegor's Holdfast stopping only to wet his blade on warriors loyal to the crown that stood in his way. He had no time to explain to them his purpose, nor did they have reason to believe him. Unfortunate as it was it was the only way toward his goal. He was determined to do at least some good here, even if it cost him his life.

He would still need to be careful and weary for the opponents he would face at his destination were some of the most formidable in the seven kingdoms or would be at any rate.

As Marcus neared what he guessed was the quarters were Elia was he could hear a female scream which he guessed to be the Princess herself. He quickened his pace towards the scream.

Once he reached the source of the screams he rammed the door with his shoulder as a way of opening it. As he stumbled inside and readied his pistol for the inevitable confrontation he was appalled by the sight. A small child lay with his head turned into mush near one of the walls. The wall itself bore the sign of what happened to the small boy was no more than a year old it would seem.

At the other end of the room a giant of a man was forcing himself upon the princess his hands still stained with her infant's blood.

As Marcus draws his gun and aims it with both hands at the culprit and shouts „Hey! "

The Giant of a man pays Marcus no heed at first choosing to ignore him in favor of his brutalizing the woman.

"You stupid motherfucking ingrate of a primitives asshole will leave the princess alone. NOW! " Marcus shouts again hoping to catch the man's attention.

This seems to anger the man as he lets go of the struggling and crying Elia and stands up grabbing his equally large great sword with one hand and stands up. The princess uses that to huddle whimpering in the corner.

As the giant turns to face Marcus with a scowl on a face so ugly that only a mother could love, if then. Marcus realizes instantly upon seeing the three dogs on yellow field that this must be no other than a young Gregor 'The Mountain' Clegane a man that would if left unchecked become the greatest butcher these lands have seen in a long time. He was clad ridicules amounts of plate armor that Marcus could see. What else he might have had underneath was unknown.

"You will die for this" Clegane growls threateningly.

"You are right. Someone has to die for this, but it won't be me. "Marcus nods and fires three rounds at Cegane's center of mass. Only one of the shots seems to however penetrated fully another only partway and the third bouncing off due to the obscene amounts of steel. At this Marcus gulps feeling less sure in himself about the whole endeavor, even with a gun in his hands.

The shots seem to stager 'The Mountain' for a moment, but then he resumes his advance towards Marcus. At this another three shots are fired in a less then even spacing at the now approaching mountain of a man. This time two of the shots penetrate and the third bounces off again. The mountain while staggered is still on his feet.

Here Marcus starts to back out of the room slowly while trying to get a clear shot at Clegane's helm. While the three bullets that have penetrated would likely kill the mountain eventually, that helps Marcus little in the here and now.

The task became even more difficult as the Mountain neared he began to swing his great sword like a pendulum of death at Marcus. Whistling with each swing the blade seemed to be coming ever so slowly forward towards Marcus even as he backed away from it.

He then remembered the one use arm mounted crossbow he had on his right hand. Aiming it at Cleganes currently unprotected crotch he fired the bolt hoping to conserve his last bullet. His last two clips were with the rest of his supplies.

The bolt struck true and 'The Mountain' howled in pain and rage. Even if he survived this day his raping days were over.

He paused his mad swinging as he tried to grasp the small bolt with his free hand. That is what Marcus needed a distraction. He used the time to rush 'The Mountain' and rugby tackled him to the ground, however with Clegane's weight and armor that was not easy thing to do.

Then Marcus pressed the gun's barrel to the tiny slit in Clegane's helm and pulled the trigger. He quickly rolled off 'The Mountain that was' and keeping his distance holstered the now empty gun.

Clegane wasn't moving, but Marcus wouldn't take the chance that he was simply playing dead. The bastard was hard enough to kill as it is. Unsheathing his short sword he slowly and carefully made for the supposed corpse hoping to make sure, while watching the hand where the great sword leys like a hawk and ready to jump back in an instant.

As he neared he kicked the body a few times experimentally and proceeded to make sure by stabbing him with the short sword in the neck with his short sword. The sword looked like a toothpick compared to 'The Mountain that was', but before he could do that the unarmed hand that he wasn't watching grasped his ankle.

Scared out of his mind Marcus began to wildly stab at Clegane. When the grip on his ankle finally slackened he stopped stabbing with his toothpick.

"Fuck! What does it take to kill this thing? "Marcus said addressing no one in particular. He then heard the still whimpering Princess Elia.

Sheathing his sword as to not appear threatening to the princess and with his arms in a placating fashion he said soothingly "I promise not to hurt you princess, but if you wish to leave you need to come with me."

"My baby, my baby, my baby" She babbles semi-incoherently.

Marcus slaps her at this point to gain her attention and says forcefully "Your death won't help him. You need to live for the sake of your children, if you are to one day find justice for what has happened here."

This seems to sober her up a little as she slowly nods and stops crying.

Leaving the princess to regain her composure Marcus is left with a hundred and fifty kilos of a problem. He opts to throw him out of the window, however the task is difficult as with the armor the man is even heavier. He slowly manages to drag him to the window and with a great effort tumble him over. It would be some time in this chaos and confusion before someone finds the body.

"By the gods Rhaenys!" The princess shouts as she rushes for the door only to be intercepted by Marcus.

"There is nothing you can do for her. " Marcus says as he hold the trashing princess. In a quieter voice he adds "There is nothing anybody can do for her now."

As the princess calms down she begins to quietly sob in Marcus's arms. As he lets go of her he starts to ponder the problem of the fact that even with Clegane dead someone would still come to take the bodies to be presented to the new king. There being only one body was a big problem.

"Do you have any dornish handmaidens my lady? " Marcus asks

"Yes Ariel, if not dead she should be near" The princess responds bewildered by his question.

"Stay here. " Marcus commands of the princess as he heads for the exit of the room.

"You refuse to help my daughter, but you go off looking for a handmaiden?" The princess asks anger and indignation evident in her voice.

Turning briefly Marcus replies "Well... yes. All will be revealed soon."

Outside the chamber he begins review the bodies he previously paid no attention to. Clegane certainly left quite a few trying to reach the princess. However most of them were either men-at-arms or servants. None of whom seemed to be dornish.

He rounded a corner and came face to face with a pair of Lannister guards probably coming to assist Clegane.

Thinking quickly as it would seem they are quite surprised to see him. He unsheathes his sword and slashes the neck of the first while blocking a blow by the second and the proceeds to stab him in the side.

Resuming his search for a dornish girl with a little more caution he finally stumbles upon a body of a finely dressed dornish girl that might have been Ariel. Dragging the body of a girl proves to be much easier than that of a fully armored knight and the task proceeds quickly.

Reaching the chamber with the princess he dumps the body in one corner while disfiguring her with his sword. He takes no pleasure in the act for the ruse to work it is necessary.

The princess looks queasy by the act, but manages to ask "Is that really necessary? "

"Yes, if she is to pass for you at least for the moment. " Marcus replies not looking up from the task at hand.

Finished with the vulgar task he stands up and ponders his next move. The biggest challenge was yet to come. Where to stash a dornish princess in a city that is being sacked. A city and keep that he couldn't navigate.

Finally he asks the princess "Do you know of any place close by we could hunker down for the night. "

She looks at Marcus strangely, but finally replies "There should be some servant quarters outside the holdfast near the bottom. "

"No we need somewhere that should be empty about now" Marcus dismisses the suggestion due to the fact that the servants are likely to be the primary entertainment for the Lannister men inside the keep.

Thinking a few more seconds the princess offers "There should be some unused rooms near the tower of the hand. "

"Is that close to here? " Marcus asks and she nods.

Going for door Marcus commands "Stay close and show me the way, if there is fighting jump back and stay out of the way." thinking a few moments he unsheathes his combat knife and hands it to her grip first and says "Take this just in case."

After that the two make for the tower of the hand encountering little resistance. The few times that they encountered Lannister men the princess did as she was told and let Marcus deal with them. Luckily they were always in groups of two or three. Once they had to find another route however as behind the corner a large group of Lannister men were celebrating in their usual fashion.

Finally they made it to the tower of the hand with a few close calls along the way on Marcus's part, but all in all without much incident.

Finding an unused bedroom proved easy as the tower seemed to be empty of inhabitants.

The room he picked was lavishly decorated with plenty of furniture to use in barricading the door, but first he retrieved the combat knife from the princess. Then with some effort after locking the door moved the solid and not to mention heavy dresser in front of the door followed by the desk.

Finally he let himself relax turning towards the princess he said "We'll stay here for the night. Try and get some sleep the days ahead will be difficult. "

"In my places would you be able to sleep my lord? " She says quietly and as if remembering something adds "I never asked your name in all the chaos. "

Sitting down on a chair blade on the near table he says "Marcus, Marcus Lane and no I wouldn't, but you should rest regardless the days ahead won't be any easier than today was."

She nods and makes for the bed without a word. The events of the day having taken all the strength she had quickly falls asleep whimpering still in her sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The first rays of the sun found Marcus resting his head on the table. The sun on his face awoke Marcus. Somehow through all the noise of the carnage last night and the palpable smell of fear and despair he had managed to fall asleep the events of the last day having taken a toll on him as well.

Once he managed to regain his wits the smell of the city hit him in the nose. It was noticeably different from last night, however no less repugnant.

Marcus moved to the nearby balcony. He must have been quite a few stories up for he could see most of the city from the chamber in the tower of the hand he currently occupied. The desolation was unlike any he had seen before. Even Kabul looked in better shape than this and that was in the middle of desert.

Most of the fires were either put out by now, or having died down once they ran their course. Some smoke could still be seen rising from the city, however as a reminder of last night's events.

'Senseless slaughter, not to mention pointless' Marcus thought as he gazed upon the ruined city. He could understand why Tywin ordered the death of the royal family, but the sight before him was utterly without reason.

He shook his head to clear it of as many of the morbid thoughts that plagued him to little avail. Marcus than turned around to gaze upon the lone occupant of the room.

He had risked much for her and they were not out of the woods just yet. He had no idea or semblance of a plan how he was going to smuggle a royal princess out of the capital.

The princess herself was quite the exotic beauty, by any standard of measuring such things. With high cheek bones and and a slight ebony tint to her skin she looked just like a fairytale princess. Unfortunately this was no fairytale and he had no delusions of being her knight in shining armor.

Even though Marcus managed to slay the beast and save the princess it was only a token accomplishment. How many died last night that he could have saved, hell he could have saved at least two more innocent souls had he been just a little but faster.

Those were foolish thoughts and he knew and it wasn't even the first time he had such thoughts, however that did not make things any easier. He was going to go outside and people are going to tell him that they won and he honestly had no idea what they had won, but from where he was sitting nobody won a thing.

It took several more minutes for the princess to begin to stir. Her previously peaceful expression replaced with one of panic.

Marcus moved swiftly across the room to quite the distressed woman, for it would be extremely unhelpful if he was discovered harboring her. He had made sure that no one that saw him with the princess lived to tell the tale.

"Calm down princess. You are safe... relatively speaking" He whispered softly into her ear.

After a few moments she calmed down and Marcus removed his arm from her mouth and stepped back to lean on a wall a fair distance from the princess.

"By the gods it was all real. The sacking of the city. My children. My beautiful children." She began to quietly sob once the events of last night caught up to her. Marcus's presence serving to confirm for the grieving widow that it was not a bad dream, but in fact reality.

"I'm sorry princess, if there was anything that could be done to save them, I would have done it, but alas it was not to be." Marcus says to the princess truly apologetic about his own inability to save the children.

Sobering up a little she nods in lue of acceptance and asks "Why are we still in the city have the rebels been repulsed?"

Shaking his head Marcus wonders how best to tell the women what has happened and that he was in fact one of those very same rebels responsible for the death of her children. He doubted that it would have mattered to her that he wasn't with the Lannisters, but in fact with the Starks.

In the end he elected to slowly and gently try and tell her the truth "Well this is difficult to explain, but I will try all the same. I want you however to promise me to try and keep a level head and not panic. Can you do that for me?" He begins slowly and at her hesitant not takes a deep breath and ventures forward "Let's start at the beginning. The Lanisters were let in since Aerys assumed that they have come to assist him against the rebels, however once they entered the city well you know that part already. What you don't know is that Lord Stark was slightly behind them and soon arrived at the city gates himself. Once he saw what was happening he rushed to the keep an proceeded for the iron throne thereupon seeing Sir Jaime Lannister sitting upon the iron throne and King Aerys laying dead at his feet. The rest you know."

"How do you know so much of what has happened?" She asks a little suspicious and more than a bit frightful.

Marcus opted to treat the issue like a band aid and get it over with quickly "Because I came into the city with Lord Stark." He finishes and waits for her reaction.

He did not have to wait long, for as soon as she hears that fear and panic beset her and she starts to frantically try and get as much distance between herself and him „Your a rebel!" She hisses at him.

"Calm down princess and if you want to blame someone blame the Lannisters. Lord Stark had nothing to do with this." Marcus attempts to reason with Elia.

Huddled in the corner furthest away from Marcus she finally asks with some trepidation in her voice "How am I to know you won't simply hand me over to your master like some loyal dog or worse" She asks regaining some of the famous dornish fierceness, the last bit however is said in voice quite enough so that it could barely be heard.

"I saved you from Clagane wasn't that enough?" Marcus tried a soft approach.

"You cloud simply want the prize for yourself. To parade me inside the throne room like a dog would a pheasant. Tell me do you do tricks as well?" The princess shakes her head snidely replies.

Marcus was beginning to get annoyed with her princess or not this was getting out of hand "Enough! I have done nothing but aid you since I got here. In reality you only have one choice and one choice only as things stand right now and that is to do everything I say and maybe, just maybe we will get out of this in one piece."

She sags at this defeated realizing the truth of his words, but still being defiant accuses "So you could ransom me to my own family no doubt?"

"Is it that hard to believe that there are still people with morals out there?" He answers with a question of his own.

"I light of recent events yes." The princess boldly answers.

Shaking his head and seeing that this was going nowhere he decides to see what has come to pass inside the walls of the Red Keep, since he was last informed of events.

Undoing the barricade he tells Elia "I'm going out to see what has happened since we hauled up here. You are to lock the door and block it as best you can. I'll be back soon."

He rushes out of the chamber, but waits until he hears the door locking to begin his descend of the tower. The floor the chamber is on he found empty as well as the one below.

Soon however to his great luck he began to encounter some northern man-at-arms and after some brief exchange with a few of them, he found out that the tower was mostly garrisoned by Lord Stark to his great surprise.

If it had been someone else or in worst case scenario Tywin fucking Lannister himself it would have been almost impossible to sneak the princess out. Not that it was going to be a cake walk now.

Marcus knew Robert Baratheon's opinion on the matter and he was likely to not be viewed favorably if found out. Ned Stark on the other hand while honorable was likely to do something foolish.

It was best if he involved as few people as possible in this little covert operation of his. After all two can keep a secret if one of them is dead.

After some looking and a few questions asked here and there he found Lord Stark's quarters. Upon entering he found a strange sight. Ned Stark drinking wine since the break of dawn, a highly unusual event in on itself. Then again the recent events could shake event the most firm resolve. Seeing him like this was more than a little unsettling.

Once Ned Stark saw Marcus he simply poured him a cup and passed it to the end of the table facing Marcus. In turn Marcus sat down and simply took it without word.

"Have you heard?" Ned Stark questions of Marcus.

"Heard what? That the king was killed by his own kingsguard. That Lannister bannerman killed half the royal family." Marcus inquires.

Taking a sip from his cup he says with ice in his voice "So... you know. What you may not know is that his grace the king arrived a scant few hours after us and more or less congratulated Lord Tywin on a job well done."

Marcus simply nods and both men fall into an uneasy silence. His mind heavily conflicted on whether the broach the issue of his self appointed covert mission.

In a few minutes and a cup of wine later Marcus finally asks with as much innocence in his voice as he can muster "So have they found princess Elia yet?"

Lord Stark looks at Marcus strangely, but nods regardless and says „Aye... she was most likely raped and her face mutilated beyond recognition. Most likely some cur took exception to her beauty"

Marcus nods in turn and asks further "Everyone is certain that it is her?"

"Aye." Stark replies.

"That is good news" Marcus says in response and immediately Lord Stark morphs into one of rage and fury.

At once Lord Stark kicks back his chair as he stands and slams both his hands on the table radiating fury „You can't possible tell me you agree with this?" He demands of Marcus.

"Peace Lord Stark" Marcus says and puts his hands up in surrender after a moment and as Lord Stark calms down considerably he continues "First of all I don't , but that is not the point here. Second this next part of the conversation we will have to continue not as lords but two honest man, possibly the last to left alive in this city."

At this Lord Stark looks even more perplexed, but patiently waits for Marcus to continue and once more seated and much calmer.

"Elia isn't dead. What was found was a dead handmaiden of dornish decent I managed to put in her place." Marcus explains simply to the now stunned Ned Stark.

"How?" Stark asks.

"Where did you think I disappeared to once we arrived at the Red Keep? While you went for the throne room I headed for Meagor's holdfast. Once I arrived young Aegon was already dead and a Lannister knight was in the process of raping the princess. I killed the knight with no small amount of effort mind you. He was impossibly hard to kill, shrugging off wounds that would have killed five men before he finally died. Tywin apparently made sure to send one of his best butchers there and the rest as they say is history." Marcus explains to a Ned Stark paying extreme attention to the tale.

Finally he regains his composure and asks "Where is she?"

"Safe" Marcus responds.

"Safe where?" Stark pushes for an answer.

"In this very tower..." Marcus says, but before he can finish Stark stands to leave, but is stopped by Marcus.

"Take me to her!" Lord Stark commands.

"No! The fewer people that know the better and she is not exactly in a very trusting mood at the moment." Marcus rebuffs.

"Take me to see her now!" Lord Stark repeats the command.

"Once we leave the city you will have ample opportunity, but here it isn't safe." Marcus stands his ground in what is turning into a battle of wills.

"I'm assuming you have plan?" Stark asks his previous line of questioning momentarily forgotten.

"I do, but I must stress that no one must find out about this. Better to be safe than sorry."

"Very well you have my word. Is there anything in particular you need from me on this matter?." Stark asks.

"Now that you mention it. It wouldn't hurt, if you tightened security around the tower and restricted movement to the upper floors besides myself and you obviously." Marcus responds.

"It shall be done. What else?" Stark pushes

"That is it for now. I will keep you apprised of the situation as best I can. Now if you excuse me I have to go to the kitchens and fetch the princess something to eat." Marcus says as he stands to leave to which Stark simply nods and waves him off.

As Marcus left Lord Starks office to head for his destination his thoughts were on how this entire situation was more trouble than the entire war put together. Apparently killing people was much simpler than rescuing them from a city full of people that would have them dead at first opportunity.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

'So far so good' thought Marcus as he sipped from a cup of wine that was almost bearable. It had no stench of barely disguised piss like most of the wine he was forced to thus far stomach.

He was currently sitting along with most notable lords and knights in the great hall of the Red Keep were the newly crowned king held a grand celebration to commemorate his victory and ascent to the throne. Something Marcus knew that he would be doing quite often from now on.

There must have been several hundred people in the grand hall not counting what servants remained and the entertainers. It was a grand illusion trying to show the image of normality and mask the horrors of the last few days. Perhaps it was simply as self delusion on the Kings part and that of his new Hand the great and honorable lord Jon Arryn. Ignoring an issue never ended well for anyone.

These two men as fierce as they were on the battlefield had no clue what they were signing on for. To Marcus they looked and behaved like unwitting pray to Lord Tywins predator.

Now there was a person that gave Marcus goosebumps. Fiction even when well done didn't do the man justice. He had a gaze the bore into a man's soul and judged its worth. He is a man as events show that was vindictive in the extreme and was capable of great cruelty that he always rationalized as good and just based on his view point.

Marcus had seen it happen as he had stumbled into a three way argument between Lord Stark, Lord Baraheon and Lord Lannister. He had hopefully escaped their notice as he pretended to be naught but a fly on the wall.

In other less depressing news he has so far been able to keep the princess's existance within the walls of the keep a secret and Lord Stark is apparently as much a man of his word as he thought.

The guards at the tower have been tripled and no one was allowed beyond a certain point without express permission of Lord Stark.

The princess herself while still grieving over the loss of her children was much more collected then before. It worried Marcus slightly that she might do something rash. After all a women such as her with the fiery dornish temper is much scarier when quite. Shouting and screaming is preferred, compared to quite, because it is then than one might end up with poison in his cup or a knife lodged deeply in his back.

The plan was all done all he needed now was a septa's outfit and they would be all set.

He was keeping the plan as simple as possible in order to avoid fouls and while he was hoping that he has avoided the attention of the major players on this particular issue, he doubted that. He would simply have to settle for Varys not snitching on him.

He has been meaning to talk to the eunuch, but was hoping that such action was not needed.

As he walked outside to one of the many gardens inside the Keep in order to get some fresh air he was more or less ambushed by the very spider he was trying hard to avoid, but then again this was his home turf. It would be downright disrespectful to assume he could pull it off without drawing the attention of the resident spook. The man lived on information after all.

"My lord Lane it is such an honor to finally meet a man of your esteem... and in such a short time. Quite remarkable." The spider said sweetly, honey dripping from each word he said.

In response to this Marcus sobered as if punched in the face with a mailed fist. While Tywin Lannister was dangerous in the extreme he was the blunt force trauma equivalent and Varys was all finesse and style, but no less dangerous. He was one of the few smart players on this continent and he knew it. He was the type to whisper sweetly in your ear while telling your enemies exactly what they needed to know in order to destroy you completely. All in all he was a fat dick less version of Nick Fury, if much better behaved and just as paranoid. He had to be on a continent that valued most the one thing he lacked, strength.

"Marcus. Please lord Varys there is no need for such formality. I do however have to wonder one is the last time you talked to someone simply to socialize?" Marcus replies with his best poker face firmly in place and hoping against all odds that it would be enough. One wrong step in this conversation was all that was needed to break him, maybe that was why he was so hesitant to approach him. However he did live in interesting times and it would seem he just came to the attention of someone of considerable authority.

This seemed to amuse the spider if nothing else. As he fell into step with Marcus he replied "Socializing in Kings Landing has been quite boring my lord. There are so very few with whom you can have a civil conversation with around here that is even remotely interesting."

"It would seem they have become even fewer in recent times, such as they are. I'm sure that new players will rise to the challenge. They always do." Marcus tries to fish for information somewhat weakly.

"Indeed. What a tragedy and so few of those actually understand the game." He says with fake regret in his voce as he shakes his head in equally fake sadness.

"The whole world's a stage and we are all merely players acting on someone elses script. Are we not?" Marcus says as he shamelessly rips off Shakespeare in order to assure a spider most clever that he does indeed know something about the illustrious game of thrones.

Varys in turn claps his hands in delight apparently finding great humor in that sentence and asks "Begs wonder however who is writing this mysterious script of yours my lord?"

To Marcus the entire conversation begins to feel like a strange mix between a quiz and a interrogation, nevertheless he replies all the same with his poker face still in place "It is too large for any one man to write alone and woe to he who thinks otherwise."

"Indeed my lord indeed" The slippery spider replies some of the cheer and mirth now gone from his voice as the conversation seems to move to more serious topics, however whether Marcus passed the clever spymaster's test is still unclear.

As they walk a little while longer in silence through the frankly quite large garden both pretending to admire the scenery, While contemplating their next move or at least so it seemed.

Finally Marcus decides to take the plunge and begin the real discussion "Was this all really necessary Lord Varys?"

Feigning ignorance Varys replies "My what could you possibly mean my lord. We are simply two men taking a stroll through this fine garden of ours."

Marcus snorts this time not being able to help it. The entire scene was like something straight out of some old spy novel, but he had to keep up appearances. He was mealy a man trying to pass through the spider web and not get caught in it.

"To an unenlightened observer perhaps, but I know for a fact you are not such and I like to think that I'm not one either. So why don't we get more to the point before we run out of a garden to pretend to explore?" Marcus says coolly to the spider that now feigns indifference.

"My little birds sing me a song of a most interesting nature about you my lord that has me most curious. About a man that came from literary nowhere and is having a meteoric rise to power. This man probably a foreigner, thorough luck, guiles and trickery has managed to quite swiftly insert himself among those that currently hold the power in the kingdom and earned their favor. Quite strange wouldn't you agree." Varys finishes his little story about Marcus.

Marcus has to admit that the man has a pension for storytelling. As he gathers his wits he ponders the situation for a moment. I would appear that he has presented Varys with an out of context problem. He could only hope that it gets solved in his own favor.

"Fortune favors the bold Lord Varys. This man of yours is probably trying to survive a very ugly situation that he happens to be presented with. Who knows maybe him being here will benefit the realm. After all this place desperately needs an infusion of new ideas, but then again what do I know about such things." Marcus replies his best theatrical spin on events having actually been the truth was an added bonus.

"Ah yes for the realm. That is very subjective my lord. Perhaps Lord Tywin believes he did what he did for the good of the realm as well as the other high lords perhaps." Varys rebuttals.

Incensed a little by the comparison which was probably the point in the first place he thought. He took a minute to gather his thoughts for it wouldn't do to lose his temper lest the master spy figure out how to make Marcus's head get lost on a chopping block.

"Tywin Lannister is a man obsessed with legacy and is probably doing everything in his power to secure this legacy in the name of house Lannister. Lord Tully is in this mess because of something as simple as a marriage and Lord Stark is out to have revenge for the murder of his father and brother after all such is the way in the north. Our King well he is our King after all it would be bordering treason to presume to speak for the King now wouldn't it. Of the above mentioned only Lord Tywin has fixed his gaze further then the here and now. The rest I'm not sure they actually understand the implications of what they just did. None of the above mentioned has anything to do with the realm or is in any way altruistic. So please don't compare me to them, if you will." Marucs finishes his semi rant slash explanation.

"An accurate enough assessment of the situation my lord. I would love to finish this discussion, but as you earlier predicted we might run out of a garden to explore, therefore I bid you goodnight. This conversation has been most refreshing I really hope we do it again sometime soon." With these parting words the spider disappears into the black of night.

Marcus had better things to do then worry about a spider's whereabouts. He had a princess to feed and judging from the last temper tantrum she threw when he brought her dinner at an inappropriate hour.

Dealing with the spider would seem like the easy part of the night and to think he was currently living in a giant medieval castle and his choice of sleeping arrangements was either a stone floor or a wooden chair. He really had to drag something more comfortable into her quarters, if his stay continued any longer. His back was creaking like a chatterbox and he was literally going to kill someone for a shower soon if it came to that.

Overall he was quite lousy and on top of that he had to worry about sneaking out a temperamental princess that half the remaining inhabitants of the city likely wanted dead or they would if they found out that she was still alive.

Someone upstairs hated him this was the only conclusion, at least the only one that made sense to him.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

For her part the princess didn't give him much trouble seeing as he was visibly upset and deeply troubled by the conversation he had with the master of whispers. Choosing instead to quietly eat her supper while Marcus tried to get some sleep on the hard stone floor still dressed in his proto armor.

Once dawn came he set out quickly to accomplish his objective and that was to somehow get his hands on a septa's outfit. He had a few ideas on where to look, but his time was limited. He had only a day before him and the northern host set forth to lift the siege on Storm's End. By that time he needed to be ready to move the princess at a moment's notice.

He had two options if he wanted to acquire a septa's outfit for the princess. First was to either go himself or to get a trusted knight to do it for him. He couldn't go himself since he as a foreigner would have a hard time convincing them and a trusted knight was hard to come by. At least one that wouldn't ask too many questions or sell him out at a moment's notice.

The second option was more covert and was the one he was going for. Few men would pay attention to a man walking into a brothel and men making odd request out of whores wasn't unheard of.

It wasn't difficult to find Chataya's brothel. Looking at it from the outside it would seem to have escaped the recent troubles almost entirely, but then again to them the only difference would have been that the customers weren't paying for a day.

Entering the famous brothel he saw a sight while expected was entirely out of his comfort zone. Granted it wasn't the first time he had seen whores in westeros or on his own earth for that matter.

This however was institutionalized prostitution that catered exclusively to the wealthy and the Nobel. The whores were truly beautiful unlike the once he had slept with that needed large amounts of bad alcohol in order for a man to even begin to consider it.

These were gorgeous women by all accounts and he wouldn't care at all that he was likely to get the clap from one of them. So beautiful were they.

Soon one of them approached him walking like a predator stalking a prey with a wide and inviting smile on her face while obviously fake was so good a man could barely tell.

It took him great effort and sheer force of will to bring himself back to reality and the task at hand.

Soon he was brought before Chataya herself and took a seat before the women. She was a beautiful woman and the first black person he had seen thus far in westeros. Her voice flowed like amber and liquid with the accents he was guessing of the Summer Islands. So much so that for a moment he was considering saying to hell with it all and embarking on the first ship for the Summer Islands.

Like blushing school boy he was brought to reality by Chataya's soft giggle. This probably wasn't the first time she had seen such a reaction from a man.

Soon he introduced himself and went on to explain what he needed and that he already had a woman in mind for the outfit. He hastened to add that he would gladly pay for the outfit and their discretion.

The whole thing was a bunch of half-truths that wouldn't be hard to believe and she had likely heard much stranger requests from men walking into her establishment.

It took barely ten minutes for a girl to enter and produce the outfit requested all wraped neatly in one inconspicuous woolen package. In that time Chataya took great joy in making Marcus blush and wiggle like a wet behind the ears school boy and he could almost forget it all.

Once he exited he headed down the Street of Sisters as her reached the alchemist's guild hall and turned to begin heading for the Keep proper he was halted by a pair of Lanisster guardsmen. Apparently they were under orders to bring him to the throne room. By whom they did not say, but apparently his presence was requested immediately.

At this point Marcus began to sweat while trying as hard as he could to appear as nonchalant as possible.

Could he have been found out and by whom? Did Lord Stark accidentally tell someone about Elia? Did Varys orchestrate this somehow in order to gain favor with the new king. Perhaps he wasn't as witty as he thought that he was last night during their little chat in the garden.

A million scenarios churned inside his own head as to what the reason for this was and none of them were good. He was after all a man that did not believe in coincidence. Him being cornered just as he got the needed outfit was a little too convenient for his taste.

He felt like he was walking towards his own execution. Fortunately the waiting was soon over.

He walked briskly into the throne room his minders staying behind. Marcus finally entered throne room and for the first time laid his eyes upon the Iron throne that so many coveted. It was a wondrous sight a thousand blades of Aegon the conqueror melted by his dragon or so they said. He could believe that. The monstrosity of steel was easily fifteen meters tall and more a kin to a tower than a throne as Marcus understood such things, but was nevertheless extremely impressed by it.

On top of the imposing tower sat now King Robert Baratheon. Marcus marched to the front and drop to kneel before the throne as it would seem this was an official looking affair and one wrong step could be his final.

"My Lord Lane it has come to my attention that..." the king began and as he paused and scowled in distaste Marcus thought he was done for. What followed however was not wat he was expecting "Ah to seven' hells with this protocol bullshit. You have been with the rebellion nearly from the beginning and have fought like the best of them simply, because like me you seem to enjoy a good scuffle. I have seen fit to reward you for your contribution to our cause. I hereby say that you be given a half a million gold from the dragon's treasury may a piece of him rot in each of the seven hells." The King said to Marcus's complete amazement. As soon as he heard the sum in question his head nearly had a whiplash as his head shoot up to stare at the king upon his perch.

"And don't go spending it on anything I wouldn't lad" he says as an afterthought.

At this point all Marcus could do was open and close his mouth. From the side he probably looked a lot like a gaping fish.

"At a loss for words eh Lane. Ha finally found something that left you speechless" The king says seemingly enjoying Marcus's state of shock.

Finally Marcus manages to find his own voice "You do me a great service your grace. Your generosity is truly unparalleled."

"Gods you've been spending too much time with Ned. Before you know it you will be as grumpy and dour faced as the rest of them northerners. It already seems to be catching on HeHe." The king comments mockingly.

"The whores and booze I'm going to buy with this much gold will go a long way to rectify the situation your grace." Marcus smirked as the large lump in his trout seems to have disappeared and no longer feeling the weight on his shoulders.

"Then what are you doing still standing there you pesky little demon?" The King asks with great levity.

"I hear and obey your grace." Marcus responds and would have in his world been a humorless bow stands up does a perfect about face and marches out of the throne room package still in hand.

As soon as he reaches a portion of the keep that is uninhabited he collapses on his ass and begins to hyperventilate.

Soon Marcus stops and starts laughing so hard he starts to cry. He doesn't truly know whether it is tears of joy or gratefulness that he is crying.

Here he thought that he was walking to his own execution and in turn he was being rewarded a king's ransom for merely staying alive. He knew that Robert Baratheon was, is and will be quite free with his coin, but this was obscene. Here he was a lord with no lands to speak of and was currently richer then some small nations.

This was a lot of bling for this world or his old one. Sell-sails fleet of twenty or thirty ships cost around three thousand golden dragons a month. In the show that he watched twenty thousand was enough to buy the service of quite a lot of sell-swords probably around twenty thousand man all told for an entire campaign.

Any land he claimed as his own he could turn into a kingdom worthy of songs, with this much coin.

That is unless someone killed him for it. How was he supposed to get around with this much gold. The first band of thugs that he came across would gladly slit his throat, fuck his corpse and then piss on it for this much gold. Hell some lords might do that as well.

He regained his wits shortly thereafter and headed for the hands tower. Once there he was told by one of the guards that Lord Stark was expecting him.

The declaration couldn't possibly dent his jubilant mood as he headed towards Stark's quarters whistling a tune.

Upon entering he found Lord Stark standing over several maps preparing for the upcoming campaign with lord Karstark and Dustin. Upon seeing him Lord Stark dismisses both lords and as they exit sits down and motions for Marcus to take a seat pouring each a cup of what seemed to be ale the first time Marcus tried the local stuff, which is strange considering the westerosi drank the stuff more than they did water.

"Are your preparations with the princess complete?" He asks while Marcus grimaces at the queer taste of the ale.

Pointing to the package he replies "This was the last bit, cost a small fortune too, but considering the king just awarded me a king's ransom for my services I can afford it. Speaking of he is trying to be all kingly and not doing all that well down in the throne room."

Stark scowls, but says nothing.

Marcus continues without breaking his stride "Just one more thing on my end, it would be best, if we left King's Landing either after dark tonight or before day break tomorrow. Less likely for anyone to spot the princess that way."

Stark simply nods and waves it off "I have been meaning to ask and now is probably not the best time, but what do you plan to do once this is all over?"

Marcus simply shrugs and takes another sip of the ale "I don't know haven't really given it much thought. Haven't had the times to be honest. There always seems to be something more pressing happening. Between trying to stay alive in the middle of a war that I was given no warning of and other ventures I've been rather busy. Why do you have something in mind?"

Stark nods and replies "I might. The north could use a good man like you."

Marcus staples his fingers and leans forward as the discussion looks like it could make his day even better, if that was even possible.

"Can I speak frankly seeing where this is going?" Marcus asks and at Starks nod continues "I have no problem in swearing fealty to your house, but I have a specific place in mind or at least a suggestion. A strip of land north of the neck Moat Cailin to be more precise including the Fever River to the east and the Bite to the west. If that isn't too presumptuous on my part of course."

Stark frowns deeply and Marcus could swear he was born that way, considering how natural it looked on him.

"Moat Cailin is wreak there isn't even a proper holdfast let alone a castle. A more suitable place could be found easily." Marcus's soon to be liege comments on his odd choice for a lordship.

"It would take some work I'll admit, but it has potential in my eyes and I can work with that. As I told you earlier I have recently come into quite a lot of money. His grace the king is quite liberal with his gifts apparently."

"Very well if you're quite certain. However I still don't see why you would want the place, but it is not for me to judge."

"This war is not over yet. Lets no count the chickens before they've hatched shall we."

"Very well and wherever did you come up with that odd saying"

"Just something my people use to say, but back on topic do I have your blessing for Moat Cailin or not?" Marcus asks.

"It is currently part of House Reed, however I don't think there will be much issue on the matter. Yes you have my blessing." Stark nods settling the issue.

"If that is all I have a princess to prep for the journey ahead." Marcus says and stands to leave draining his cup and picking up the package. In parting Marcus adds "Always a pleasure my lord."

The day couldn't possibly get any better for Marcus it seemed as the universe was finally giving him a break and having things go his way for a change.

All he had to do for the rest of the day was go pick up his loot and instruct the princess on the plan.

He contemplated wondering around the Keep looking to meet someone interesting to have a chat with or perhaps seek out the dragon skulls, but that seemed to much like taunting the great and all powerful Murphy and he had no intention of doing that now or ever if he could help it.

Things were looking up and he was soon to leave this Machiavellian paradise the locals call a capitol and not a moment too soon.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

At the dawn of day just as the first rays of the sun were beginning to peek over the horizon the northern host was ready to set forth for what they thought was to be the final true battle of the war. Only Marcus knew that there was to be no battle or at least he was moderately sure of that. Even though he knew it as a matter of fact, but then again he also knew that war was chaos and there was little surety to be found in it.

He was ready to head south after three days in a city that made the hairs on the back of his neck be constantly affixed in a rigid upright position, if he stayed any longer he might have to consider himself a porcupine.

Having been gifted by Lord Stark just this morn as was the local saying for morning. He was gifted fifty men to act as his personal household guard. He was shocked by the gift as he wasn't used to seeing people being traded so easily. So shocked was he that the fact that they were sporting the byzantine cross barely registered emblazoned on their shields.

This now meant that Marcus's stop gap measure was now his official standard. Maybe he should have given it a little more thought then simply blurting out the first appropriate emblem that came to mind. Perhaps some of the eagle style emblem's would have been more majestic such as the roman imperial eagle or the two headed Russian one of tsarist Russia or even the American one, but no he had to go for a cross in a land where the significance of it was utterly lost on the locals.

At the very least now he had men to guard his six huge chests of gold. Each of those chests was large enough to need its own cart. It least he now had the men to guard them.

The princess now dressed as a septa was relieved immensely that she would finally be leaving the city even more then Marcus, but then again she had all the reason in the world to want to leave the graveyard that was once a mighty city.

She rode with Marcus as they exited the city the troops and hopefully everyone else as well were none the wiser as to her real identity. Well Varys probably knew, but then Marcus doubted that he missed all the signs, but after this morning he would know all the details, if he didn't already of that Marcus was as sure as the sky was blue.

Marcus had to with good cheer deflect a few questions at first from the more inquisitive northern nobles as to why he had a septa with him and who she was. To all that he simply responded that he had found religion with all the seriousness he could muster.

They were riding for most of the day when soon it came time to set up camp and with that task soon accomplished. Lord Stark soon came into Marcus's tent to meet the princess.

She was on guard instantly when he came never having met the men or knowing much about him.

Looking from the side was incredibly amusing to Marcus to watch a train wreck in the making, however it didn't come.

After the initial barrage of accusation and insults by the princess as was her norm. She seemed to deflate due to Lord Stark looking like a kid that there was no Santa and having had his favorite puppy killed.

Lord Stark was full of grief and apologies for the princess for everything he may or may not have had a part in.

The entire scene was very moving in the end, even a rock would have shed a few tears. It was practically impossible not to.

Soon enough things fell into normalcy again or at least it was the most normal Marcus had had for a long while. Ever since he got to Westeros in fact.

He still guarded the princess and was training his men on the basics of discipline. Thus far they were proving far more receptive then the knights he previously had under his command and while the equipment was all wrong for what he had in mind could easily be changed in time tom suit his needs.

The weeks came and went quickly like that.

Guarding and bonding with the princess over the journey. She seemed a lot more open to him or at least more tolerant and less explosive than usual. He almost at times felt like he was being misled into a false sense of security. He almost missed her snappy comebacks and accusation.

Training his men on the other hand was unlike a grief stricken princess he didn't exactly know how to handle. It was something he knew well and most situations if a little bizarre were at least moderately familiar to him.

He was also practicing with tem his own sword skills and after so much sink or swim situations since he got here he was beginning to get an honest feel for it unlike, the previously instinctive use of the sword now he was getting some refinement. It was slow going and he was by no means an expert, but there were men ten times as good as him in it that trained their whole lives and still had room to improve. He might have even killed such men in the past few months, after all explosives and bullets cared little for skill or fame and titles.

In what seemed like no time the host reached Storm's End. The host yet again made camp and soon Lord Stark went to parley with the Reach lords along with Lord Dustin and Ethen Glover.

With that and a whimper the siege was lifted the lords dipped their banners and the castle was resupplied.

Nothing Marcus hadn't foreseen.

The highlight of the entire affair was when Lord Stark requested from Lord Stannis to render Marcus aid in his quest. To which Stannis agreed.

Soon after that Lord Stark left for the tower of joy along with Howland Reed, Willam Dustin, Ethen Glover, Martyn Cassel, Theo Wull and Mark Ryswell.

Marcus had pleaded with Lord Stark to take him with them and all but begged him to do so.

Maybe he should have done so. Begged that is. He didn't know whether that would have worked or not. It mattered little however. Seven went on this little quest to rescue Lyanna Stark. A whole war had been started, because of her and tens of thousands lost their life over a foolish girl and her own selfish desire, but then again it took two to orchestrate this whole affair.

Of the seven that went only two would return, broken hearted.

It mattered little. There was little he could do to help them now and Lord Stark was right he had his own little quest to worry about right now

Tomorrow the northern army along with his men would make for Riverrun along with his own troops and the treasure he had made from this war. He on the other hand would be boarding a ship provided by Lord Stannis and sail to Sunspear to deliver his precious cargo.

Try as he might he couldn't be everywhere and save everybody. He was beginning to accept that little fact of life. He had to do a tremendous amount of adjusting, if he was to live in this new world.

Now all he had to do was try and not get his head chopped off once he reached sunspear. He was really hoping that the people known for their quick temper had heard of the saying that you shouldn't kill the messenger.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The next day the small party set sail for Dorne on a small inconspicuous ship captained of all people by Davos Seaworth. He has not yet been knighted for his efforts in supplying the troops inside the besieged castle with provisions humble as they might have been. To a starving man anything whatsoever is better than nothing at all.

The journey itself was supposed to take ten days if the weather permitted. Marcus himself was acting like a kid in a candy store. He had been on ships before but never on one that still used sails and was made of wood. He was carefully observing the few sailors that manned the ship in an attempt to pick up a thing or two about sailing.

Marcus was fast becoming familiar with the former smuggler over a cup or two.

For his part Davos only asked once what their business in Sunspear was and after being told that he would be told once he needed to know drop the issue.

Marcus had managed to keep the princess identity a secret from the crew and Davos, after all they were all simple man. None of them were likely to have seen the princess before or knew what she looked like other then the fact that she was dornish.

The weather was good and the journey proceeded at a good pace.

Late one night during the voyage while Marcus was having one of his now infrequent night terrors.

Standing on the deserted upper deck on the small ship and feeling the salty breeze caress his skin, he was accosted by the princess still wearing her septa disguise.

"Having trouble sleeping my lord" She questions faintly.

"War takes a toll on us all my lady what I'm going through is not that uncommon." Marcus answers honestly without turning to face the princess.

"Until now I dared not hope that I was ever going home, lest my hope was later shattered before my very eyes." She states matter of fact.

"In that case I'm glad to have exceeded your expectations of me princess." Marcus replies jokingly.

"This is not a jesting mater my lord." She admonishes slightly.

"No offence meant. I was merely trying to lift your spirit somewhat." He replies defensively.

She softens at that and says apologetically "I apologize I'm still a little on edge from everything myself."

Marcus brushes it off and asks "No worries, but since we are going to be visiting your family soon I would appreciate if kept them from killing me on sheer principal. Dornishmen aren't exactly known for being calm and collected people and House Martell most of all, or so I hear"

She frowns slightly at that and replies "Fear not you have nothing to fear from my family in fact they are likely to reward you handsomely for your deeds thus far."

"I have told you this before and will say it again. I need no reward for this." He replies matter of fact.

"Nevertheless I am grateful for your selfless efforts thus far." She replies.

"You're welcome. You should get some sleep we would be nearing Sunspear soon and there will be plenty of excitement there." Marcus responds.

As she heads below deck Marcus thinks on the future.

He has been made a Lord and given his own lands, however other than seeing them on a map and knowing that it is a strategic location, South of where the gigantic swamp known as the neck lies.

Plans and plots form and dissolve as soon as they appear for it is all conjecture at this point as he knows very little for certain about his new lands.

On the bright side he is effectively king of his own lands. There being little oversight generally from the Starks of Winterfell. Aside of course when they call there banners and march for war like right now.

All of this would naturally need to be confirmed when he gets his hands on a maester, but that would have to wait.

Feeling the frustration build up he decides to head below deck himself for some shut eye.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They were nearing the destination. For two days they have been sailing close to the shore of Dorne and all Marucs could see was desert. He had no idea how Davos knew where to drop him off, but then again the man used to be a smuggler and something like this would be just up his alley.

Marcus approached Davos as he was steering the ship and asked "I hate to sound like a child that asks when they'll arrive every five minutes, but I have to ask any way?"

Davos smirks and replies "We'll be there shortly milord."

Marcus nods and assumes a position next to Davos watching the sea and after a moment speaks "You asked me before we set sail what the nature of the voyage was. I will tell you now as it may become an issue."

"That be might kind of you milord." Davos replies

"I'll put it bluntly. The septa isn't a septa at all, but princess Elia Martell of Dorne." Marcus says to the shock of Davos.

"The princess of Dorne on my ship and I never noticed." Davos says amazement clear on his features.

"Calm yourself Davos. The reason I'm telling you this is that should anyone approach the boat other than me you are to immediately set sail, but do wait for me. If I'm not back in a week again set sail. Do you understand all of this Davos?"

"Aye milord. But if I may ask are you expecting trouble?" Davos asks hesitantly.

"I don't know what to expect Davos and that is the problem. The way I hear it the dornish aren't the most calm and collected people or so I've heard." Marcus says almost resigned.

"Well if it's any conciliation I doubt ye be losing your head milord" Davos responds trying to cheer him up a little.

"Let's hope so Davos. Let's hope so." Marcus says soberly.

Soon enough the destination in question was reached. To Marcus it looked no different than the rest of the desert they have been passing by for the last few days. He was trusting Davos's word on the matter as an experienced smuggler to know these things and if he said to head straight inland then so be it. He had no reason to distrust him as of yet.

Marcus and the princess set to shore on a row boat and once beached headed inland as per Davos's instructions.

After a few minutes of walking however they were approached by a group of five armed men sporting spears.

At first Marcus thought them to be a patrol from Sunspear, but that illusion was quickly shattered as soon as the lead man spoke.

"Hand over the treasure or get cut north man" The lead thug said.

Marcus for his part didn't react over much except for standing in front of the princess and putting a discreet hand on his gun "We have no treasure we are merely travelers seeking way into sunspear."

"You lie! All you north man rich give treasure now!" Another of the tugs responds.

Marcus was beginning to get annoyed at the confrontation and hoping to surprise them drew his gun and aimed at the tugs with both hands. Slowly and methodically he aimed and fired once at a pair of thugs that were grouped close together.

Not waiting to see what happened to the two of them he aimed and fired at another of the tugs.

The Last two tugs were hoping that rushing him will help them avoid the fate of the others, but to little avail. Their spears were too short and the distance grater then they needed. Soon enough they too were hit one in the head and the other in the chest.

His job done he holstered the gun and unsheathed the steel short sword he had on his hip and went in to check his handy work. Three of the bandits were dead, but two of them were still twitching. He made short work of them with a stab to the heart. No need to be cruel about it and let them suffer.

The rest of the overland journey to Sunspear was uneventful. After another hour of walking they climbed a dune one of many on the recent trip and there it was in all it's glory.

To Marcus the place looked much more impressive then any of the other places he had been to thus far like Riverrun, King's Landing and Storm's End.

Sunspear itself looked like what he imagined the Persian palaces of old looked like. It was highly exotic with its domed ceilings and high spires.

They entered the city with little difficulty. They calmly walked thru the city all the while Marcus gawked at all around him in amazement.

He could hear various merchants loudly advertise their wares and dornish troops march on patrol.

To Marcus it all looked like something out of one thousand and one nights. He was beginning to let his guard down and relax, but once they reached the palace and Elia was unmasked his good cheer evaporated as the guards around the entrance seemed to surround him with their spears pointed at his throat. He decided to surrender peacefully, hoping that this would be resolved peacefully soon, if it wasn't however he had no idea what to do. His sword was taken, but not his gun or knife as he was not too kindly dragged into the palace dungeons.

This was one side of the city he was hoping not to see any time soon, however that was one hope that died in vain as soon as he hit the dungeon floor.

After that came the hard part and it wasn't that he was getting dehydrated or going hungry. Both of which he was. No it was the boredom that was his real enemy.

It wasn't to be for long as soon enough a pair of guards decided to help him relive his boredom by giving him a beating that left his ribs somewhat tender. Now he could have jumped them or shot them, but he was expecting to be brought before the prince and be beaten for the amusement of his jailers.

Being blindsided sucked, but at least he wasn't bored anymore.

All he had to deal with now was the incoming delirium and the fact that he was going in and out of consciousness.

He could suddenly see the ground moving slowly beneath his face or it could be that he was being dragged somewhere. He was however too weak to protest or exclaim. It felt a lot like being drunk and the world was spinning and everything hurt, aside from the buzz of course. He could do with a buzz right now.

He had little measure for time and couldn't know how long it has been. Soon enough he was unceremoniously dropped on the hard stone floor and water was splashed over his head.

He tried to stand up with one hand and reach for his gun with the other, but all that achieved was for him to roll over on his back and lose conciseness completely.

XXXXXXXXXXX

When Marcus next awoke he wasn't in a dungeon as he expected, but in a large opulent room with something resembling Middle Eastern design.

The strange thing was that he was wearing fine silks and satin and how that happened was anyone's guess. His trusty fatigues were nowhere to be found. However his belt and gun were resting comfortably on a table next to a pitcher of some kind.

He made to get out of bed, but his ribs protested the action quite strongly. In the end he managed to wobble his way to the table and supported his weight with his hands on the table. His first action was to chug the contents of the pitcher so thirsty was he.

His thirst satisfied, he got down to business having regained his bearing somewhat.

Marcus decided to try his luck in sneaking out of the palace, or baring that just try and leave. He was in better standing at the moment apparently, however he decided that lingering might prove counterproductive to his health and longevity plan it would seem.

His door wasn't guarded. That was a good sign for him he thought as he wobbled his way down the corridor and downwards the spire he was located in gun in hand.

Once he encountered guards he decided to walk like he owns the place. He was after all dress for the part.

He walked briskly thru a garden hoping to reach the side of the palace where the exit was located when he heard a voice from behind him "Ah Lord Lane I see you have awoken."

Marcus for his part whirled around gun held at the ready position, but said nothing to the man that addressed him.

"Forgive me where are my manners I am prince Oberyn of House Martell" The now identified prince said accompanied by theatrical gesturing.

The prince frowned as Marcus still said nothing.

"Not an idle conversationalist are you my lord" The prince comments idly.

"I converse plenty when I have something to say or am talking to someone I like. Neither of those however applies here." Marcus finally says knowing that he can't simply walk away from this conversation lest he end up with a spear thru his back.

"Ah so you do speak!" The prince exclaims the smug expression he has had since the beginning of the conversation still firmly in place "You can't still be upset over that little unfortunate incident Lord Lane?" the prince asks sweetly

"I actually can and am." Marcus responds with more than a little check, however his gun hasn't moved an inch ready and waiting to put a bullet in the prince's head and Marcus was beginning to be very tempted to do so on sheer principal right now.

"Come now Lord Lane we need to find a way to move past this little unfortunate occurrence." The prince says.

"Well I intend to leave right now and from now on keep to my neck of the woods as it were. How does that sound?" Marcus responds.

The prince frowns at that and says in turn "That simply will not do as my brother and I were hoping to talk to you in private. Why don't you come and dine with us? You simply must try some of the food. Dorne is famous for its cuisine throughout the known world."

Marcus seemingly catching on asks with a frown of his own "I don't exactly have a choice here do I? Oh well can't blame a guy for trying."

"Not really no." the prince answers with that smug look of his and those black beady eyes piecing thru Marcus.

Marcus now holsters his gun and motions for prince Oberyn to lead the way as he wobbles his way after him.

He is soon led into what he gathers is a private dining hall for the use of the Martell family at a guess. There he found another man in his early thirties he would wager that must have been a much younger Doran Martell. It was difficult to reconcile the knowledge of the man that he knew was in his fifties and suffering from severe gout with the image before him. The man looked to be in the prime of his life still with not a single with hair visible and radiating strength.

Before them was a large table laden with enough food to feed a small army.

Marcus took a seat at the table not too close from the brothers and waited patiently for one of them to start the conversation.

They took their sweet time, but after some light non essential conversation between them prince Oberyn finally turns to Marcus and asks innocently taking a bite out of his own food "Not hungry Lord Lane?"

"Not particularly." Marcus answers stiffly.

"You know in some parts of the world not partaking in meal is considered quite rude." Oberyn says.

"Then perhaps those parts of the world are just touchy." Marcus answers matter of fact.

"HaHa... well said." He says grinning all the while toasting Marcus.

Turning toward the reigning prince of Dorne Marcus asks "I'm in no mood for empty pleasantries prince Doran I hope you understand, I would very much like to get this little interrogation out of the way so I can get going as soon as possible."

The prince himself frowns, but nods nevertheless and begins "Very well I would first like to express my gratitude towards you on behalf of Dorne as a whole and House Martell in particular for the return of my sister. The news that has reached us from the capital wasn't good and we feared the worst."

Marcus nods and replies "This entire war seems to be ending the same way it began... with a tragedy."

"What I would like to know is who ordered the death of my sister's children?" Oberyn interrupts.

"That would be Tywin Lannister. He then wrapped them in red Lannister cloaks and presented them to Robert Baratheon and the man thanked him for it. The only one of the high Lords to my knowledge that condemned the act was Lord Stark. For my part I apologize if I had arrived, but a minute sooner one of those children might still be alive." Marcus explains events as he knows them.

Both brothers looked scandalized at the news, but only Oberyn reacted to it. He threw his goblet at the wall and brushes his plate to the floor.

"The dogs would dare! I vow that, if I ever get my hands on Tywin Lannister his death would be slow and excruciatingly painful!" Oberyn erupts.

"Peace brother. There is time enough for that let us hear what Lord Lane has to say and then we can discuss this." prince Doran tries to placate his brother.

For his part Oberyn looked quite unwilling to drop the issue, but instead decided to quietly simmer.

"I have to ask do you come with terms on someone's behalf perhaps?" prince Doran asks of Marcus.

Marcus shakes his head and replies "No! No terms. The plan was to simply deliver the princess and leave. However the situation with the war as far as I understand it is as follows and these are simply the facts mind you. The Reach have pulled out of the war and the queen has fled to Dragonstone and a armada is being constructed as we speak to hunt them down."

Both remain silent after that contemplating Marcus's words. Oberyn is the first to break the silence "You would have us believe that you saved my sister out of the goodness of your heart Lord Lane?"

"I would have you believe that I did it simply, because there were so many horrendous acts perpetrated that day that I could do nothing to stop. So much so that when I was faced with one that I could stop I knew that I had to simply so that I could maintain my humanity, but then again you can and will believe whatever you like, if your mind is made up there is little I could do to change that." Marcus says quietly and staring into nothing.

"Lord Lane's action are not those we need to judge brother" He says to Oberyn and then turns to address Marcus „In fact you should be rewarded for your efforts." He says and motions for a pair of servants carrying a chest to come forward.

Marcus waves the servants off and says to prince Doran "I still have trouble breathing from the last reward I received prince Doran. All the reward I need right now from you is to be free to leave your domain as soon as possible."

Doran frowns, but nods regardless "You can leave any time you want. You are not a prisoner here, but a guest. If you must leave so be it, rest first you must still be weary. You can leave in the morning."

"If it is all the same to you I would rather leave now." Marcus says and stands to leave.

Doran stands himself and responds "Very well if you must. Safe journeys to you Lord Lane and know that you would always be welcome in Dorne."

With that Marcus begins to navigate the Palace of Sunspear and soon exits the city and heads for the shore at the best speed that he is able.

The cool night air and the slight sea breeze make the journey as light as possible given the circumstances. Soon he reaches the shore and begins the painful task of rowing towards Davos's ship. He could orient himself by the burning Lanterns on the top deck.

Soon enough he collapse on one of the beds below deck as Davos prepares the ship to set sail for the return trip to Storm's End.


	4. Chapter 4

Marcus awoke the next morning to find that the ship was already making good speed towards the Stormlands.

On the top deck He found Davos once again at the helm of the ship and approached him.

Davos for his part grinned as he saw him approach and asked „I see that your trip was productive milord"

"Oh yes. Great fun it was. I got a guided tour of Sunspear's dungeon and its famed hospitality." Marcus responds with fake cheer.

Davos grimaces at that feeling awkward for a moment and responds lightly "Well at least you still have your head milord."

Snorting at that Marcus offers in turn "Well there is that, but that is not what I wanted to talk to you about."

Waiting a moment and staring into the sea he asks Davos earnestly "I have a job for you if you are willing?"

Davos frowns at that and says "I'm out of the smuggling business milord. Retired!" and emphasize the point he dangles the pouch with his recently severed finger joints.

"I'm aware of that. The job I have for you is nothing complicated or illegal. I simply need some volcanic ash delivered to me once Dragonstone is secure once more." Marcus responds.

"Volcanic ash! What could you possibly need with that milord? Not that I'm prying or anything." He hesitantly asks.

"Does it matter? I'm willing to pay you ten silvers per barrel and would accept all the ash you can bring me. It s a simple trade job, that could get you quite the amount." Marcus adds.

Frowning at that as to Davos's ears it would seem the offer is too good to be true so he hesitantly questions further "So if I'm to bring you a hundred barrels of this ash you would pay me a thousand stags milord."

Marcus thinks it over and responds "Sounds about right. The catch being that we would have to wait until the crown retakes Dragonstone, but after that is done yes. So are you willing?"

"Just last one question milord. Why me I'm a nobody milord." Davos questions bewildered.

"You are a good man Davos and if we make a deal you are skilled enough to avoid trouble on the sea" Marcus says with finality looking Davos in the eyes.

"Well in that case I accept milord." Davos responds.

"Very well once you are able load up on as much of the stuff as you can and head for the Bite. There you are to send a man to Moat Cailin and inform me of your arrival. Then I will arrive to pick up the barrels and pay you for the load." Marcus instructs.

Davos frown at the odd request, but nods his affirmation regardless.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Once they reached Storm's End they could see the beginning of a massive construction effort was underway to construct a royal Armada.

The only inconvenience was that he needed to buy a horse and some warmer clothes for the colder northern weather. He managed to procure everything easily enough after all he did still have a pouch full of gold.

The problem was with the clothes themselves they were rough, coarse and very itchy. The issue with that was that they were supposedly of a quality by local standards that was worn by most mid to low level nobles. It was nothing like the fine silks and linen he was given in Dorne. Those were of a quality that would have been considered more than good enough even for his old world.

The woolen garments he was currently wearing over his satin shirt were barely more than rags by any standard and the problem was that he could tell that the peasants were wearing even worse clothes, there for the possibility that he was being swindled was nonexistent unfortunately.

From there the journey to Riverrun itself took a little over a month. It would have probably have taken less time if he didn't lose his way several times. However for his first time navigating Westeros it was surprisingly quick journey, but then again it wasn't difficult to get directions especially as he was willing to part with a few coins here and there.

At last he reached Riverrun. He was grouchy, tired and all in all not in a good mood.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Marcus found out that he was just in time for the host to head north two days later they made north.

The mood was somewhat jubilant, if a little muted by the fact that Lyanna was apparently dead and of the Lords that went with Lord Stark to rescue her only Lords Stark and Reed came back and with an infant baby boy that Lord Stark claimed as his own.

Marcus was certain that the child wasn't his, but decided not to bring the issue up at all. Considering the new kings view on anything to do with the old ruling family. The truth was likely to reignite the war.

A few days after the journey north began Marcus met Catelyn Tully for the first time and Immediately disliked her even if he tried his best not to show it and give her the respect she was due.

She was very beautiful there was no denying that. He could see why Littlefinger wanted her so badly and was obsessed with her.

Marcus figured that he could come to tolerate her, but for the moment he couldn't reconcile the image of the spiteful woman she would become. Her current circumstances weren't ideal to say the least and he did have to give her credit for sticking to her word and acting in such a way to preserve the family honor.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The host was nearing the swamps of the Neck the Reed bannermen would depart and the host would make way for his own lands of Moat Cailin.

Lord Stark approached him soon after the host entered the Neck to talk to him in private.

"It is still not too late you know." He comments to Marcus.

"Too late for what my lord?" Marcus questions.

"To choose different lands. The gods know that there are plenty of good empty keeps in the North that you can have as your own and no man here would question you skill or character. You don't have to settle for a ruin of little value." Lord Stark says.

"That is where you are wrong my lord. It has a tremendous value. True it is a ruin now, but I plan to turn it into a city that will rival the grandest in the known world. All I need now is people willing to work and a lot of them." Marcus comments.

"That is a bold claim to make Lord Lane. How exactly do you plan to make that happen?" Lord Stark questions honestly curious.

"Well there man plans that I have, but the biggest has to be the building of a canal. That is why I requested the lands in question." Marcus answers.

"A canal! What good would that be when winter comes and the smallfolk starve?" Stark continues the line of questioning.

"The answer is simple my lord. Trade. We would be able to go by boat from Bear Island to the Karhold without even leaving the North. I am confident that it would lead to nothing but good thigs for our people in the future." Marcus answers honestly.

"That is a nice dream to have indeed, however I'm not sure how possible it is." Stark says.

"It would take time a decade at the earliest, but I am confident in this endeavor and I am willing to stake my good name to it." Marcus says defensively.

"I meant nothing by it my lord. You have my blessing in this endeavor, if you are this certain that it will benefit the north. You are yet to lead me astray Lord Lane." Stark says conviction filling his voice.

"I won't let you down my lord you can count on that." Marcus says looking Lord Stark in the eyes.

Lord Stark for his part simply nods and with a farewell trots off to the head of the column.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The journey to Moat Cailin took over two months, but that was normal considering that all the troops had only a single road to walk upon. They had lost a few people to the swamps felled by swamp fever or one of the many other dangers in the swamps of the neck. The swamps themselves looked like no other Marcus had seen in his life. It reminded him more of a thing straight out of a horror movie. He was half expecting a swamp monster or two to jump forth and drag any unsuspecting men into the bog. The swamp was spooky and deadly he could see why only fools would march through it north. It would take monumental stupidity to march on the North during winter let alone through this place.

Lord Stark had come to ask Marcus twice more, if he would instead like lands somewhere else. So much so that Marcus was beginning to worry what he might find on the other end of the causeway what the northmen called the only way north.

Soon enough the war host came upon the sight of the Drunkard's tower. Marcus rode ahead in a gallop giddy with anticipation and came upon the sight of his new holdings.

The three towers were the first thing he saw. They were the last left standing out of reputedly twenty, however considering that they were erected more than ten thousand years ago was actually no small feat.

Then he laid eyes upon the settlement. It wasn't that small considering that it rested at the mouth of the only over land trade route in or out of the North. It housed maybe a little over fifteen hundred people, but he couldn't tell by giving it a once over. He hoped there were more, but then again it could be less than that. The village looked downtrodden and miserable. Made of shanty wooden structures.

To a man like Marcus that had for near two months rode through a nightmarish swamp it looked like he had entered an entirely new world. Not that he hadn't done that before, but nevertheless it was a welcome sight.

The host had assembled outside the village and Marcus had formally sworn loyalty to the Starks of Winterfell and was made the new Lord of Moat Cailin, custodian of the Fever river and defender of the Gates. This was seen by all the noblemen save for Lord Reed who had departed much before the host's arrival at Moat Cailin. At the of the modest swearing in ceremony Marcus had stood up and humbly requested that they send to his care all those that were a drain on their resources. The poor, the unemployed, the homeless and the unwanted. Marcus had to word that part carefully in between his boasts for the future of Moat Cailin.

The boasts and the requests were viewed with amusement and bewilderment respectively by the gathered lords, but in the end he had managed to get at least half of them to accept to send him people to help his town grow into something better.

Soon after that the host went further north and Marcus lost sight of them. He then ordered his new captain of the guard a northerner by the name of Andrew Finnegan to take the men and garrison the Drunkard's tower while he went and occupied the Gatehouse tower.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The next month passed uneventfully as Marcus was making a cursory examination of his new lands and holdings. He had to let go any dreams he had of draining his southern lands as the swamp and bog were something like the swamp equivalent of the Amazonian jungle of his own world. It wasn't all bad news. He had discovered by talking to the villagers that there was already a coal and a iron mine already working to the north east of Moat Cailin. The region was also rich in limestone and Sandstone as he had discovered for himself. There were no mines dedicated to mining it as of yet however.

During that time he had sent ten of his guards in two groups of five to spread the word to the farms and smaller villages that they were now beholden to the new lord of Moat Cailin.

He had managed to make a total count of the people living directly in Moat Cailin and was quite glad for the number. The total number was around two thousand eight hundred individuals both male and female not counting children to young to walk.

Marcus was also building the first ever vodka still in his free time. That is to say most of his time when not exploring his new holdings. He had chosen a pot still since it was easier to build, but ran into a problem almost immediately. The problem was one of measurements. Westeros has a very rudimentary system of measurements it would seem that was entirely nonfictional for his needs. There for before he could begin building anything he had to invent new measurements. He had quickly decided on the metric system since it would be easier to implement in his mind.

He had taken two metal poles and a yard of tin cloth and set about painstakingly create the measurements. The process was annoying and took two whole days. That was a lot longer then he thought. He had left one of the completed metal poles with the village blacksmith and one of the strips of finished cloth with the village seamstress as samples and molds for future making.

He had finally had what he needed to create a basic pot still but first he needed to build a temporary building to house it. Fortunately wood was plentiful on all sides.

The building construction and still construction by the blacksmith were two separate projects. The still took the blacksmith four days, while the building took ten.

He had finally managed to set it up and finding enough potatoes wasn't difficult. Marcus took five local lads that were slightly older than him and looked trustworthy enough and began teaching them how to make vodka.

He made two batches of vodka. One smaller and one large in order to teach the lads the process. In the end he felt almost comfortable in leaving them to make vodka by themselves. They seemed eager enough and he was paying them to make it and supplying the ingredients. He was paying them a handful coppers a month and the lads seemed to worship him for it. He was probably going to make quite a bit of money from vodka in the future. It was cheap and easy to make and historically quite the hit with colder regions on his own world.

Marcus gifted the first batch to the local tavern and told the proprietor an old ugly hag with barely any teeth give it out for free. Suffice it to say by the next day there was none of it left. The outcry from it was quite positive. He could almost say it was a smashing hit if the number of vomiting people or those that had passed out on the streets was anything to go by.

By the time the second batch was made he was well into his third month as lord of Moat Cailin. He still spared and trained the troops whenever it took his fancy. Considering however that there was little to do as of yet it was a common enough sight to see him train the men in the empty space between the three towers. He was planning to turn the towers into a small fort\barracks for the men, but that would be well into the future.

By the time the fourth month of his rule rolled around he was becoming extremely bored with the lack of anything to do. Besides training the men or helping the lads at the still there was little to be done with his meager resources. He had however sent fifteen to collect two of the smaller nearby villages and relocate them near the iron and coal mines and have the men work in the mines. The labor of the mines would then be shipped to Moat Cailin for Storage. The workers themselves were on the same paying scheme he had set up for the lads working the still. He would need to appoint someone to oversee them soon or it was likely to turn into one giant money sink with little to no benefit. However at present he had no one that he could put to the task.

He had erected two large wooden barns during his fourth month one to store food and the other to store coal an iron ore. They were a far cry from what he would need, but would do for now.

At the beginning of the fifth month however he decided had had enough of squatting in a tower and was time for a shopping trip to White Harbor. He had taken five men and headed that way all the while surveying his lands as he passed.

His lands had a certain charm to them and reminded him a little of his onetime visiting a friend in Scotland. He was saddened once more by the realization of all that he had lost in coming here, but quickly shook it off as he was becoming better and better at it.

The trip took around a week and soon enough they reached White Harbor the seat of House Manderly and his closest neighbor. It was also the largest settlement in the North and main port. It was probably the smallest of all the large cities in Westeros and Marcus could easily see it as he entered the city.

He was walking around the cities market square and marveling at all the different things on sale not because they were novel to him, but because they reaffirmed his belief that Westeros was very shinzo tech. It wasn't that bad, but considering how much of the world around them they seemed to know about granted in a roundabout fashion. It would seem they were one slight push away from a renaissance or an industrial era. That or become even more shinzo tech. The only thing this world seemed to have that came even remotely close to scientists was the maesters of the Citadel as far as he knew.

His musings were interrupted as a pair of Manderly guardsmen recognizable by the white merman with dark green hair, beard and tail on a light blue field approach him and request that he accompany them to New Castle as it would appear that his presence has been requested. He takes one of the five littler barrels of vodka he brought with himself and instructs his guards to find an inn to stay and that they are free for the night to do as they please and gives them each fifty stags so they can let the top off.

Marcus is then quietly escorted to the castle that sits atop the hill overlooking the city. He met with Lord Manderly at least once he is sure of it. During the victory feast of hell after the Battle at the Stoney Sept. There could be other times, but he couldn't remember. Not that he remembered much from that particular experience other than the fact that he was a really fat man with a funny beard.

He was soon led into the Mermen's Court as the hall was called. Marcus was really hopping that this was a meet and greet and not something else. Not that he could think of anything else that this could really be.

He came upon the sight of Lord Manderly and his two sons seated at a large table to a large feast. Marcus couldn't however tell whether it was a feast of some sort or the three Manderly's dinner. They war after all larger than life and such big boys needed a lot of food.

"Ah Lord Lane! Come sit with us." Lord Wyman Manderly said jovially with a chicken leg in one hand and a flagon of mead in the other the flagon spill in on his clothes a little as he waved it around.

"Marcus please Lord Manderly we are all of the north here are we not there is no need for formalities." Marcus says as he places the vodka on the table and sits down.

"Ha! Marcus it is. Then call me Wyman. These are my sons Wylis and Wendel." The fat lord says jovially as he motions with the chicken leg at his sons.

"A pleasure to meet you good Sers." Marcus responds.

"Say what is that you have there Marcus?" Wyman asks as he notices the vodka barrel.

"This well. It is a gift actually. I have been thought never to go into another man's house empty handed. It's something I've been working on as of late. It is a very potent alcohol that goes down real smooth." Marcus answers with a wolfish grin on his face and pries the barrel open.

"Ha! Splendid! It must be something great if it has your stamp of approval. I remember you complaining constantly how bad the wine was when we were south. Have it here. Servants pour us each a cup." Wyman says with a eager glint in his eyes.

"Careful it is some strong stuff." Marcus says as the servants move to pour each man a cup.

"There is something I wanted to ask you. There are some strange rumors flying around from the south." Wyman says in a less jovial and more even tone.

"Oh and what might those be I'll be happy to shed some light on the situation for you." Marcus says as he takes a sip from his vodka.

"Primarily the ones that say you killed some scary western bannerman and rescued the Martell girl" Wyman clarifies.

"I did do that yes and our lord knew of my actions and supported them. It wasn't my decision who to tell. I'm sure that he merely forgot to mention it. The days after King's Landing weren't pleasant for our lord" Marcus answers.

"Hehehe the very image of a knight aren't you Marcus. The Beast of the Bells, the Demon of the Trident and savior of damsels in distress." Wyman proclaims loudly before taking a rather large sip from his own cup of vodka.

"I do what I can." Marcus responds simply.

"Damn this is some strong stuff you got there Marcus. Good though." Wyman proclaims loudly. After making a face. All three of the Manderly's immediately begin to develop a slightly reddish tint soon after.

With Lord Manderly's stamp of approval the night progresses in jovially full of drunken boasts, load proclamations and much merriment.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Marcus awoke the following morning with a splitting headache nestled between two buxom girls he didn't remember. He was really hoping that they weren't anyone's wives. He was in no mood for annoying honor duals.

It would appear that he had once again decided to gamble and thrown the dice on medieval STD's. He carefully extracted himself from the embrace of the two sleeping girls and quickly dressed.

Heading afterwards for the town and looking for any merchant guild that called the city home. Marcus gathered his guards and the two remaining small barrels of vodka that he had brought with him and gifted the merchants gathered at the guild with both as a sample of his product. Hoping to peek their interest and promote some trade and hopping that by the time they came to his town he would have more product to showcase.

The rest of the day was spent browsing shops and making some minor purchases, but it wasn't entirely inane. He had managed to snag a pair of experienced miners to put as foreman at his own mines. He would still need to assign someone to the mines to manage them, but at least now the workers would know what they are doing instead of swinging blindly at a rock with a pickaxe.

The night was largely uneventful as he spent it at an inn with his men and retired early with no buxom maidens this time.

The following day he bid goodbye to Lord Manderly and set course for home with the miners in tow and his purchases.

When he arrived back at Moat Cailin he was presently surprised to discover that the harvest had began and that the good captain Finnigan had already sent men to collect the taxes. The food barn was already full and a new one would need constructing as there was still produce coming in. The ore barn was somewhat disappointing however as there was barely any coal or ore in it.

He ended up constructing three new barns that month. The second and third were for storing wool and as they were constructed one was already half full. The farmers were selling him what wool they weren't outright giving him for penies.

During that month people began to trickle to his town that the other lords had promised him prompting him to begin building the canal or at least the portion that would connect to the neck. As the population was steadily increasing.

He started with two hundred able bodied men and by the sixth month of his reign that number had increased to five hundred and was still increasing and they were making good pace or at least he thought so. It was a small miracle that so far they were digging predominantly through sandstone and some limestone. While the dirt was disposed of the lime and sandstone were being stored for future use as he was likely to have great use for both.

The place was much less boring with the work on the canal starting. There was always something that could use his supervision or could be tweaked for better results.

At the beginning of the seventh month and he really needed to find what the correct date was soon a man came seeking audience with Marcus. The man claimed to have been sent by Ser Davos Seaworth.

Marcus immediately gathered some man and several carts and headed for the shores of the Bite. There he found the now knighted Ser Davos at which he broke into a mad grin. He was even more ecstatic when the man showed him that the ship was full of volcanic ash. Even the upper most deck was packed to the brim. All in all there was over four hundred barrels of the stuff.

He paid him and promised that, if he should need more he would write him a raven at Dragonstone. Marcus was ecstatic over events. He joked and drank some vodka with Ser Davos while the men unloaded the barrels. It would take several trips to deliver all the barrels to Moat Cailin, but he was in no hurry to return. He used the time to catch up with Ser Davos.

They talked throughout the night as Ser Davos regaled him with tales of the assault on Dragonstone and its subsequent taking by Stannis Baratheon.

When morning came and he walked on the beach he saw that his men had worked throughout the night to clear all the cargo and they would be returning with the last batch. He made a note to give the men a night off after this.

On the road back Marcus was almost giddy with anticipation. Now construction could truly begin on all the projects his head had spawned, but couldn't act on due to lack of resources.

He would soon be able to lift himself from the squalor he was currently in. He could hardly wait. After all he felt most at home when working on one of his projects.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Marcus stood atop the Gatehouse Tower and surveyed his lands from on high. The village below looked less like one these days though and more like a refugee center. It would seem the other lords were true to their word or simply wanted to get rid of the unwanted elements within their own lands. Either way the result was the same people seemed to be coming in almost daily now. The problem rested with the fact that there was nowhere to put them and the slight issue where most of his guards were needed to maintain order. He had tasked his captain of the guard to train another fifty men, but it was slow going at best.

He was almost ready to begin construction. There were enough able bodied men still left to put to the task of construction even after accounting for the steady increase in workers on the canal project. There were two major projects awaiting his approval at the moment. First and foremost was the housing project. He was considering building Soviet style apartment buildings for the simple reason that they were easy enough to build and were nearly indestructible to anything available in Westeros short of dragons. The problem with that however was that with no running water the conditions might deteriorate fast, not to mention that people throwing buckets of shit from the fifth floor might be a bit of a problem and while the second project of constructing a sewage system would help with that particular issue it still left him with no fresh water supply. The biggest issue however with the construction was rebar or the lack there of. He could make cast iron rebar as it has been done on his earth prior to the advent of mass produced steel, or he could simply opt out of rebar entirely for the early test models. They were after all to be a proof of concept.

Marcus was initially planning on placing the exit of the sewage system at the canal, but that would deprive him of the only substantial fresh water source nearby. On the other hand, if he made the exit somewhere in the swamp it would create a possible weakness in his defense. Not to mention the very real possibility of swamp monsters making it their new home and he was far more worried about the denizens of the bog.

The only way he could think of to rectify the issue was to build a water treatment plant of sorts. It wasn't as difficult to make one. It was actually quite easy; however it was far from ideal and would certainly require a pump of some sort. He was yet to make a decision on that; however in consideration was a gravity purifier. That was the simplest solution he could think of for the moment, but would also require quite the large facilities.

The whole point was moot considering that it would be at least a year or two before he could connect the canal to the Fever River. Maybe he was trying to pre-plan things just a little bit too much.

His quazy cement and concrete factory was completed, just a day earlier and all the needed materials were being stored in preparation for the impending construction effort that was about to take place.

He wasn't going to begin any military projects any time soon, considering that the labor force wasn't used to the new materials or its uses. Trusting them with a military project so soon was a mistake he wasn't willing to make, even though Captain Finnegan was pestering him almost weekly about building at least a wooden palisade to encircle the three towers.

His musings were interrupted however as the Captain in question cleared his throat behind him.

Marcus turned to face him and promptly addressed him "Captain."

"Forgive the interruption m'lord, but there is a maester that would like to see you."

Marcus beams at the news and exclaims "Well it is about time! Lead the way Captain."

Finnegan does a commendable about face and proceeds to lead his liege Lord to where the maester is situated inside one of the many rooms inside the tower, and then promptly left Marcus with the maester.

The maester was young and looked utterly ordinary. He had a smallish chain around his neck and was dressed in a brown robe. The perfect image of a maester.

Marcus took a minute to take a measure of the man that was to be hoisted upon him. If he was to be honest he wasn't sure what use the man would be. That is to say other then his personal librarian. Any books he might have brought with him however would be useful, if for no other reason than to alleviate his boredom every once in a while.

The maester soon began to fidget under Marcus's gaze and chose the break the silence by speaking up "My Lord Lane I am maester Daeron and I have been assigned to Moat Cailin by..."

Marcus decided to interrupt his stammering and said "I already guessed who you might be maester and your purpose here. We have been expecting you for quite some time now."

"Apologize for the delay my lord, but these things take some time and the trip from the Citadel was somewhat unpleasant to say the least. The Rivirlands are beset by bandits and all manner of brigands these days." Maester Daeron stammered in apology.

"You are finally here and that is what matters. You are to set up in the Children's Tower as it will be your home for the foreseeable future. Get accounted with the Moat and rest up there will be work enough for you soon." Marcus says and turns to leave there were a hundred little things that needed his attention today and he needed to get to it. There was little time for idle chit chat. He thanked all the gods that would hear him that there was no paperwork in Westeros, because that would have made his life more hellish than it was at the moment.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**5 month**

**285AL**

It had been a little more than a year and a half since Marcus took control of Moat Cailin and many things have changed since then.

The canal project was going extremely well so far and if things continued like that the western side that connected Moat Cailin to the Fever River would be completed some time next year. He was initially surprised by the revelation, but then he discovered that the portion was along the line of thirty kilometers and was positively tiny compared to the Eastern portion of the planned canal. There were now more then three thousand people working on that particular project of his. All is however not peachy with the work force even though there have been a dozen deaths due to various accidents or the more common cause illness. The workers were oblivious so long as the money kept flowing and they did. By Marcus's own reckoning they weren't being paid very much, but as a lord with treasury of over half a million golden dragons that weren't diminishing at all it would seem. Most of his own projects were covered by the taxation and trade that passed thru the land.

Trade was seeing a slight increase due to vodka sales. The smallfolk have begun to call it firewater due to its colorless state and burning taste. This all meant that traffic through the Moat was slowly increasing, both in a northwards direction as well as southwards. It wasn't quite substantial as of yet, but it helped to spread the news that there were paying jobs to be had for all those that sought one.

The brewery itself had to be expanded once and then there was the modernization so to speak, that saw it moved from the wooden building to a all together better concrete and brick building that could see to all their needs and accommodate further expansion. The biggest improvement however was the move from a simple pot still to a column still. The product produced from it is superior or it would be better to say it became superior once the people working on it became used to the new method of production. That required Marcus's oversight and guidance and while he at first thought that it would be unnecessary it quickly became abundantly clear that was not the case. The construction of a small water tower was added after Marcus realized that in order to cool the still a more permanent source of water was needed. This further increased the work force from the previously expanded fifteen to thirty. The tower needed to be filled by hand and pump through brass pipes via a hand pump that Marcus had to design himself. The plus side of this was that it gave him needed practical experience of designing primitive pump systems. The four hundred liters of vodka the place produced every two months also helped in that regard and the end product was quite drinkable and not at all like the moonshine had he previously produced. There were ways to go before his product could compete with the likes of the fine dornish wines or the almost golden tinted wine the Arbor. There is one thing however that his product had that theirs didn't and that was affordability. He had a long way to go before his product could compare with theirs, if ever and quite a few tweaks before then.

The town of Moat Cailin itself was booming and expanding every day. Currently the population was stable at around ten thousand people and considering he had started with a little over fifteen hundred that was a tremendous increase. At first the population increase was due to the quazy refugees the other lords were sending him. The Lords especially northern Lords valued the given word a great deal, even more so when they promised something in front of all their contemporaries and their liege Lord. For them to not fulfill such a promise would be a great embracement and an enormous loss of face. The northern Lords might not have the pomp and love for sweet talking political overtures like their brethren down south, but that didn't mean they had none at all. There's just happened to be a lot more direct. When a noble Lord had a grievance with someone they quite literally gave them the axe. Blade first of course.

The biggest portion of the influx came oddly enough from the south. There seemed to be numerous bands of outlaws, brigands and bandits that harassed the riverlands as an afterthought of the rebellion and Hoster Tully seemed oddly lax in dealing with them, probably because they stayed away from the bigger castles and towns and mostly attacked villages and small farming communities. The second contributing factor was the fact that the Vale's mountain clans were acting up again and with Lord Arryn acting as hand of the King the vale lords had no central command or authority to guide and focus them against the tribal's. Every lord was doing their own thing for the most part and few of them ever worked together due to age old rivalries and petty feuds. Moreover they cared little if at all as to what happened to their smallfolk. A few of the arrivals even claimed that their village was sacked by valemen and not tribal's. Some even claimed that they were attacked by both tribals and valemen. They were all in are sorry state at least the ones that managed to reach this far north and while the arrival of more people was a welcome sight to Marcus it left him with problems that weren't easily solved. Such as the problem of security. He had ordered at first for his captain to train another fifty people, but that wasn't enough. Then he ordered him to train another hundred people. It was still not enough as two hundred people could hardly control ten thousand people. He had again ordered another batch of troops to be trained this time two hundred and was hoping that it would be enough.

This however led to another problem of where to house the troops as the tower was currently becoming smaller and smaller. Very soon he would have no choice, but to begin the construction of the fort around the three towers as a barracks and a fortification of the entrance into Moat Cailin and the North proper.

Marcus had established what he would like to call the Moat Cailin construction company. It was basically a gathering of masons, carpenters and other medieval men whose profession centered on building large structures. Those men acted as foremen for the unskilled labor force beneath them. Each foreman had as little as five men under him, to as many as thirty depending on a series of factors that Marcus had to figure out by trial and error. The company has had two major projects since its inception. First came the sewer system. Marcus had to use some creative design for his part as constructing a modern sewer system was both impractical and the cost of the pipes alone would have been hideously prohibitive. Instead he had designed a catacomb like system around the roads; however that required him to improve and adapt the existing roads. This on itself lead to the construction of a dedicated limestone storage and processing facility. The facility contained a large courtyard for storage of the raw product, a animal powered mill was the main processing facility and warehouse to store the finished product. It was advantageous that the facility was next door to the cement and concrete quazy factories, whose setup was largely the same for the time being.

The roads themselves were made out of crushed lime and rocks and made to slope downwards so as to help the drain into the sewer itself. The sewer system was nothing fancy most could call it a man made cave with small openings on the side of the road. The sewer happened to be exactly beneath the road and the ceiling reinforced with concrete pillars. There would have been quite a few problems had Marcus not received that shipment of volcanic ash to mix with the cement. The sewer system expanded as the road network itself expanded. The exit as one was needed post haste was into the still unfinished canal. That at the moment it was nothing more than a large hole in the ground was irrelevant.

The second large scale building project that his fledgling construction company was tasked with was the construction of sorely needed living space that wasn't ramshackle huts and rickety wooden buildings. To that end Marcus had spent over a month designing an apartment complex patterned after the Soviet complexes of old out of sheer necessity. Each individual building was built out of concrete and bricks. It had twenty five apartments per floor with each one having two rooms no counting his new invention in sanitation as well as a small fireplace. The tenement for that is what it was essentially was only four story tall due to the lack of rebar and not particularly difficult to construct or so had Marcus thought when he began. The complex had two features that had the potential to complicate the construction. The first feature was the fact that it had improvised sanitation system. That is to say a secondary chimney system that instead of smoke was used to transport waste. Initially Marcus thought that it would be a good way to gain some experience in designing such systems. It turned out to be a headache both to design and a even bigger one to build what was essentially the first indoor toilet in Westeros. The second feature was a central heating system meant to be coal powered much like the ones the Soviets used. It turned out it was currently both expensive and difficult to build. While the cost of building it would hopefully be offset by coal sales overtime. This is the North after all. The headache of constructing a central heating system without the ability to weld anything was a tremendous pain and the most difficult part of the entire construction. The biggest challenge was however to design the entire thing with windows that held no glass and still be able to heat the entire thing. There were days where Marcus had honestly wished to shoot himself rid himself out of his own misery on the matter.

Each complex could comfortably hold over three hundred people or so Marcus had thought. The truth of the matter was that what he thought were slightly cramped conditions to fit three people were not made to account for the life style of a medieval peasant. Even though he had been living here for a little over three years and there were still some things he couldn't get used too.

The smallfolk managed to fit themselves quite comfortably, even managing to fit up to six people in a single apartment with no complaint. Therefore something that was made to accommodate three hundred people, now had anywhere from five hundred to six hundred people living in them. To Marcus this all sounded ridiculous, but was never the less a fact. The fact that there was a monthly rent did nothing to deter people not that he wanted to. The rent for a single apartment was one of the newer copper stars coined with the image of the new king that were now entering circulation or eight pennies. That earned him almost a dragon a year from an individual complex. That was a tremendous amount for something so trivial and it didn't account for the purchase of coal during winter for the central heating. The problem there was that as the largest job provider in the settlement he was effectively getting paid with his own money in over half the cases. He was hoping that would change over time, but it still at the moment had the benefit of keeping the money in the family as it were.

Marcus had constructed ten of these complexes in over a year and a half and two more were being constructed. Granted the first complex took six and a half months and required almost daily supervision and did horrible things to his blood pressure, but after that the locals were learning to handle the materials and work the techniques that he demanded of them. In the end as people in the company gained some experience and adapted to the construction process. The construction was ultimately shortened to a little over four months. That might have been helped by the fact that these days the company employed a little over one thousand people spread over the various construction projects. After the canal it was the second biggest job provider in Moat Cailin.

Close to two thirds of the town's population would call it home once all twelve were completed. It made Marcus glad that he had build the indoor concrete toilets as problematic as it was. That alone will save him further headaches down the line as people would have start dying from diseases and what not. Even thought the project was quite pricy it was also needed to alleviate his growing housing problems in regard to the smallfolk.

He was still amazed at the speed of the construction projects as well as the canal, but then again the people of Westeros might have a lot more experience where grand building projects are concerned then their contemporaries on his own earth from mediaeval time as even the grandest of castles from his home even in their heyday looked like nothing more than small keeps or holdfasts compared to places like King's Landing or Sunspear. Granted the city itself was nothing to write home about, but the castle was enormous in its entirety. On the other hand Westeros had few true cities unlike his worlds Europe. There were barely a dozen cities on the entire continent and some of those weren't really worth the designation.

He had tasked his newly appointed maester to train a dozen boys to read and write as soon as he was able to help with the menial tasks as well as for future use. Thus far only two lads have managed to learn and their performance wasn't that good.

Speaking of the good maester. He was a good man devoted to his job and studies. Daeron did any task assigned to him quite diligently and with little fuss. The man was turning out to be quite useful in setting up Marcus's household. Where previously Marcus lived like he was still with the war host campaigning, he now had maids, cooks and all manner of servants Daeron had picked for him. The maester had even reminded Marcus that he was expected to hold court in the literal sense of the word as he was expected to carry out the king's justice in his own lands and was to act as judge, jury and executioner.

With the number of people growing and Captain Finnegan struggling to keep the peace the sheer number of infractions kept growing. It all left Marcus thinking that as soon as he fixed one problem three more arose. He even had to construct a interim dungeon. Well it wasn't a true dungeon, since it was more of a wooden outhouse, but it served the purpose for the moment. The whole thing significantly cut down into his free time or his ability to work on his own projects.

Speaking of projects Marcus was working on a really important project at the moment or at least he thought so. He had already constructed the massive factory for his new steel works and an improvised assembly line for it. All that was left was to build the Bessemer converter. While he knew how to build one and even had all the materials that he would need and he did indeed have them in stock for it and its operation. What was slowing him down was that he had to make the thing like a giant jigsaw puzzle using what amounted to handmade custom parts and each part required precision and as far as the blacksmiths he employed were concerned was a custom job. Therefore each part was its own specific project as every part had to be made to specifications. Blacksmiths as a rule were more artists in this regard, the uniformity of the parts was alien to them unless they were working with a mold and that wasn't the case. It slowed the project greatly. Not to mention that Marcus had to make the process idiot proof and mechanized. The entire thing was extremely frustrating to Marcus. What he initially thought was going to take no more than a few months was going to take more than a year to set up and that is if he was lucky. While the westerosi were good with large construction projects, they were quite vexed when it came to large metal working projects such as the one Marcus was attempting. It was a new field for them altogether or maybe Marcus was trying to run before he could craw.

As things stood even after he had improved both mines with rail carts that eased the speed of gathering the resources immensely. After all before that each individual worker had to carry his haul on a woven basket on his back. That exhausted the work force and crippled their efficiency. The output of the mines had skyrocketed after he paid both mines a visit in order to figure out why the amount he received was so low. At first he had suspected corruption or idiocy, but when Marcus saw how the mine operated he wanted to face palm.

It wasn't the miner's fault that the way did things their whole lives was flawed. The simple introduction of steel tools and rail carts did miracles for the output of both mines and as the conditions in the mines improved so too did the mood of the workers. They weren't exactly jubilant, but they were slightly less disgruntled than your average miner. They were northerners after all and they didn't shy away from hard work.

This was all well and good, but it didn't solve the problem he was having and namely that was that even with the increased output from the both mines. The iron mine still didn't produce enough material for continuous operation of the Bessemer converter. He didn't at this point know if it was a production issue or the fact that it was two days away from Moat Cailin proper by horse drawn cart.

On the plus side however the coal mine was doing above expectations for the moment. It could be the fact that as of yet the coal use wasn't that high. This however allowed him to build quite the stockpile that would be more then useful in any of his future endeavors.

Marcus had accomplished much in the short amount of time he was active as a fully fledged Lord of the North. This all however had its downsides. He was burning the candle on both ends and it was starting to show. Marcus was often disheveled and with bags under his eyes these days. He was in need of a vacation and even Captain Finnegan and maester Daeron had suggested this much several times in fact. Both of them had argued vehemently that with their careful supervision his projects would be kept on track.

He was hesitant at first, but his current brain child was consuming to much of his time and progress was slow to materialize. Perhaps he should take a break/trade expedition to White Harbor to push his stockpile of firewater on the merchants there. There was also the added benefit that Lord Manderly knew how to have a good time even if he wasn't much to look at. The man threw one hell of a party and wasn't really that bad a company. This way he could kill two birds with one stone and as an added benefit get his two proto advisers to stop whining.

It was decided and who knows maybe he will get a fresh perspective on his project after his little sabbatical.


	5. Chapter 5

**Oberyn**

**2 month**  
**284AL**

At First once he had heard the news from King's Landing he was beyond incensed. Outrage would be a better word, but it would still fall short of his true feelings on the matter. He had wanted to continue the war in the name of Viserys Targaryen. He cared little for the boy or putting him on the throne, but it would allow him to hunt down his own enemies and end them in a slow and painful fashion. Only his own brother had different ideas on the matter. Doran was preaching patience. To be sure his brother was as angry as himself over the events and yet he still decided on restraint. He could honestly not understand it.

Then the unthinkable happened. A few short months later out of nowhere his own sister appeared with a stranger at the gates of Sunspear itself dressed like a septa of all things. He had ordered the stranger tossed into the dungeons to be dealt with at a letter time. He was honestly not concerned with his fate. All he could think of at the time was sprinting to his sisters side in order to embrace her. Admittedly this decision of his was a little premature and heavy handed, but at the time he couldn't care less.

He had quickly sent word to his brother at the Water Gardens; House Martel's private residence. A few short hours later his brother had arrived with his personal guard galloping through the streets of Sunspear. Oberyn was sure that had his brother found out that this was a joke of some sort the perpetrator would not have lived long to regret it.

As it was Oberyn sat in the throne room and conversed with Ellia when Doran stormed into the room. The look on his face when he saw Elia said it all however. Oberyn for his part at the time was incredibly smug at the whole ordeal. It wasn't often he himself had seen his own brother lose his unshakable composure like that.

This was followed by a brief and happy reunion between the three of them. Then Elia was prompted by Doran to tell her tale and so she did. She began with the tourney at Harrenhal. How her husband the mighty dragon had shamed her publicly, by choosing another women and then absconding with her to parts unknown. She told them of Aerys's fall into madness. Granted that was something they both already knew, but it was another thing entirely coming from the mouth of someone you trusted. Then she told them of how she had learned of her husband's death at the hands of Robert Baratheon. Finally she told them of the part they had been dreading the sack of King's Landing. She had told them of all the grizzly details she could remember of that night through a river of tears. Oberyn had never felt so helpless during his entire life. Here she was his little sister so distraught and there was nothing he could do to help her. Oh! How he wanted to. How he still wants to. The day would come when he would pay all those that had wronged her tenfold for their crimes.

Elia seem to sober up as she recounted the tale of her rescue at the hands of one Marcus Lane. He had heard of the men even hear in Dorne. His part in the war was no insignificant and every consequent tale of the man seemed to paint him large then life. Oberyn had never met the men or indeed heard of him before the war, but such occurrences weren't unheard of. What surprised him however was that when Elia had said that he was the man that brought her to Dorne. The very same man he had ordered thrown in the dungeons. The look of fury on his sister's face when he had admitted to his actions made him wince in apology.

Doran had promptly thereafter ordered him released from the dungeons and brought before them. What was brought before them however was a man half dead from dehydration and it would seem the guards were not gentle with the man in the least.

His little sister was horrified at the sight of the man. As a matter of fact she wouldn't even speak with him for days after that. It would seem the man left quite the impression on his gentle and tame Elia. It was comforting to him to know that the capital hadn't snuffed the dornish fire that burned within her.

Doran had order the man tended to and placed in appropriate accommodations and while the servants proceeded to do just that he and Oberyn were busy pacifying their sister.

Once she had calmed enough she told them the rest of her story of how she was spirited away by the young lord and her subsequent flight from the capital dressed as a septa. How no one found it strange that a septa accompanied a bunch of northmen was beyond him to be honest. However that was irrelevant as far as he was concerned. The only thing that mattered was that she was safe and once again back where she belonged; the deserts of Dorne.

The morning after the emotionally draining event Oberyn had awoken with renewed vigor. He still swore vengeance on the Lannisters and Baratheons for the deaths of his nephew and niece, but at least his sister was returned to him. He had found Doran in her room looking at her as she slept. Apparently the two of them had the same idea. Both of them wanted to make sure that it wasn't an elaborate dream, but in fact reality. He then noticed that his poor sweet sister had cried herself to sleep. He couldn't imagine what she had been through., but from this moment on he and Doran had agreed to not let anything like that happen to her ever again.

Afterwards he had found his sisters liberator creeping through the courtyard, heading for the main gate of the palace. Oberyn found the entire thing highly amusing. Here was a man that many a bannermen thought was ten feet tall and could breath fire no less. Oberyn for his part thought him a boy. A skilled boy, but merely a boy non the less. The famed beast was creeping through the courtyard like a common thief.

When the prince of Dorne had confronted him with an amused smugness to his own features. The beast whirled around drawing a contraption from his belt that Oberyn was unfamiliar with. What was familiar to him however was the look in those eyes. He had seen it many a time, some time even on his own face. It was barely restrained murder. Oberyn had no doubt that the boy would use that contraption of his given the slightest provocation and the consequences be damned. He had merely smirked at that sensing a kindred spirit in that regard. As they spoke the look never left his eyes. It merely developed a calculating sheen to it. That raised Oberyn's appraisal of the boy a few notches. This meant that the lad could keep his head clear regardless of his feelings. A very useful thing in Oberyn's opinion.

However the boy was still young and it showed. He lead the boy to his brother. They had a lot to discuss and would be best if they had their little chat without Elia present. While no harm would come to the lad he had promised his sister and was going to keep that promise. Her presence would be counterproductive or so his brother had thought.

The young beast was on edge through the entire meal and even though he was probably starving and feeling the thirst quite strongly after all he was half dead of dehydration the past day. However he touched neither food nor drink. Being either impertinent or cautious. Oberyn couldn't tell which, however he was amused yet again to discover that he had wit to him.

While the discussion of events both past and future was disturbing to the Prince. There were things that he discovered from the young man that reaffirmed his decision to swear vengeance on those that had wronged his sister and her children. His brother on the other hand was ever the advocate of caution. This did not surprise him however as he had heard these same arguments time and again the past month.

Two things did surprise him however. First was the fact that the little beast turned down the reward his brother had carefully prepared for the boy and second was the fact that he had up and left Sunspear straight from the table. Oberyn must have offended him more then he thought with that little trip to the dungeons he arranged for the boy. A mistake he now knew, but there is little he could do about that.

Oberyn came out of his musings on the past and what he could have done to achieve a better outcome. The past was just that the past and could not be changed. No matter how much he would want to do so.

He gazed upon his sweet sister from his vantage point near the pool. She was yet again steering at the see from one of the towers of the Water Gardens. Elia's health was better now that she was back home as she seemed much more healthy, but that was a small consolation seeing as she rarely smiled these days. What he wouldn't do to see her smile like she did before. It broke his heart to see her like this, but he did understand.

One day he would bring he Tywin Lannister's head mounted on his spear. That was a solemn vow. After all he owed the man a debt. A debt of blood and the Lannister's weren't the only once that paid their debts.

Speaking of debts there was the matter of the boy. He had done him a great service by bringing Elia home. He would have to think of something appropriate in the future to repay the boy with. Last he heard of him was that he was made the Lord of Moat Cailin. The North such a dreadful place he thought. Oberyn would have made him a Lord as well if that was his price and Dorne was a much more pleasant place then the freezing North. Not to mention the people were just better.

These however were musings for another time. For now he just hopped that his sister would be cheered up by a trip to Sunspear. These days she wasn't allowed anywhere out of his sight or that of Doran and even then she still had quite the substantial guard detail.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Maester Daeron**

**4 month**  
**285 AL**

He still remembered the night when he stood vigil inside the vault with the glass candle quite clearly. It was tradition after all. No maester had ever managed to light the candle thus the time inside the vault was usually used to contemplate one's own fate and the future of the individual as a maester.

Daeron had sat in the dark and thought hard on what might come for him after he took his vows. What keep would he be assigned to? What would the Lord ruling it be like? He had hoped to be placed somewhere within the Reach or perhaps his own native Vale. What Daeron had not imagined was being placed in the North. How he lamented his fate. His trepidation only grew as he learned that the keep was Moat Cailin. A desolate ruin in all but name.

He had wondered what Lord had angered his liege to such an extent to be given charge of that cursed ruin. He had wondered even more as to who he might have insulted as to be sent to keep the Lord in question company in his misery.

Daeron was highly bewildered when he realized that the Lord in question was a warrior of no small renown. He had heard tales of the Beast of the Bell's as well as the Demon of the Trident. There were many a song being sung in taverns across Westeros to commemorate Robert Baratheon's victory over the Targaryens. All those on both sides that were notable had at least a song or two in their honor as well. His new lord however had nearly as many songs to his name as Robert Baratheon himself.

He had been amazed to discover then that not only was the fabled beast his new liege, but he himself had requested Moat Cailin as his domain as a reward for his action.

At first Daeron had thought his liege mad for it. He would never voice those thoughts out loud however. Men have lost their heads for far less than that in the past.

His bewilderment had changed to amazement in short order once he had discovered that his liege was not only a great warrior, but a wise and accomplished scholar himself. Perhaps not on the level of a maester, but enough to be given credit.

The changes and new contraption were small things at first. They eased various professions slightly and made life easier for the smallfolk. His first shock had come when he had ask why there were men digging what in his mind was the world's biggest ditch. When his lord had explained what was intended of the project in question Daeron had been for a loss of words.

Privately he was doubtful of the endeavor, but again it would be unwise to mention such a thing to his lord as he seemed quite set on the project. However if he did indeed complete it then it wouldn't take a maester to see the benefits of such an undertaking. It would be truly a feat worthy of Bran the builder himself and while that was high praise it made Daeron weary. He like many other maesters was an enemy of all things magical and had checked to his limited ability time and again to see whether magic was employed in the construction of the fabled canal. It still amazed him that there was nothing otherworldly involved in the construction. In barely a year they were to connect the town to the Fever River.

He had not imagined being a maester to be quite like this. He constantly learned something new and exciting under his new liege Lord. The things his Lord had accomplished in such a short amount of time made him wonder what he would accomplish next. Already there were rumors of a new project that his lord was working on. He knew little on the subject as Lord Lane had not deemed it his purview. He did however know that it required huge amounts of iron and steel as well as other metals and that it was located within a building that was positively enormous on the edge of the growing town.

Daeron contemplated all this as he walked one of the twin plaza's located in the shadow of the large residential complexes as his own lord had called the building. He admired the fountain in the middle and the adorning statue. The Statue was made out of bronze and was a depiction of Lord Lane's new sigil. His lord had come to him wanting to change his sigil a few moon's past. He had said that the old sigil was a sign of what he had lost and could never regain and thus needed a new sigil to depict this new beginning.

Such things were not that uncommon and he thought little of it. Instead admiring the work that the artisans had done. The strange bronze eagle grasping a pair of lightning bolts in its talons made for quite the sight as he walked through what had become quite the market place.

He was really hoping to see what came next, if this current trend continued then it would truly be something spectacular to behold. He was hoping that his master took a break from all this work as he was becoming quite fatigued and that was quite unhealthy.

Daeron had not imagined the north quite like this. It all made it almost worth it. The only downside was the inevitable winter that he knew was coming. He dreaded that and hoped that it didn't last as long as some feared.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Eddard**

**5 month**  
**285 AL**

He sat under the godswood as he often did polishing the Stark ancestral blade Ice. He liked it here. Only here did he feel at peace, under the watchful gaze of his gods. It is here that he did most of his heavy thinking.

Maester Luwin had brought him a letter earlier that day from Lord Reed he had asked him to keep an eye on Moat Cailin and the proceedings there. He still had some misgivings about awarding it to Lord Lane, but those grew fewer by the day.

At first he had thought little of the man after he had gotten over the shock of the mans arrival as it were. Letter he had found to be rash, brazen and arrogant. There was no disputing the fact that the man was a capable warrior after the Battle of the Bell's. Just as he had gained a measure of the man he had surprised them all yet again in a quite the spectacular fashion at the battle of the Trident. All that cemented what he had suspected of the man's marshal capabilities.

What really moved Eddard however was his rescue of the dornish princess. He didn't have to do what he did and had Robert found out about his actions then he would have mounted his head on a pike most likely. That to Eddard showed for the first time that beneath it all Marcus was a good man and the North could always use more good man.

He was at first resolved to give the man a keep and a copse of land as his own somewhere around the Stoney Shore, but Lord Lane's request of Moat Cailin had caught him unprepared. Eddard had agreed at the time, but held reservations. Lane is good man and had more then proven his capability for war, but what would be required of him at the Moat was something else entirely.

Eddard had been regaled by lofty goals and grand ideas during the trip through the causeway, by one Marcus Lane. The lord of the North did not know what to make of all that. On one hand it would be extremely beneficial, if it proved true. However if it didn't prove so as he feared then he would have squandered one of the most strategic locations on his southern borders.

That was why the letter from Howland was important. He wanted to know if the man was capable of running such a large estate. He trusted Howland with his life, therefore he was of mind to take his words as his own on this particular matter. Eddard already had to deal with complaints from both House Manderly and House Dustin. The Manderly's were not vocal, but they were somewhat offended, however not that much. He suspected that they complained simply as a matter of formality. House Dustin on the other hand was a different thing altogether. Lady Barbery Dustin was beyond incensed although she didn't show it when he saw her last. Her husband had followed Eddard into war and he couldn't even bring back the man's bones. All he brought back was a horse. That was a poor substitute and he knew it. Taking so many of their lands to the south east would have been like a slap to the face after that.

It was a good thing then that the letter spoke of quite the construction effort being in progress. Lane had begun the canal he spoke of and was making progress on the matter as well as housing for the smallfolk. Eddard had heard of the new beverage that came from the Moat itself from passing merchant men. He paid it little mind however as that wasn't the grand designs Lane had been promising him. He was moving in the right direction and Eddard was hoping that he would soon see something that settled the matter conclusively.

Giving Lane Moat Cailin had been his first major peacetime decision. Eddard needed it to work out. So at the very least his own conscious was settled. He needed something to show for all that he had lost in the south. Even if it was only to himself.

People kept telling him that the war was won and indeed it was, however he was hard pressed to say what House Stark had won out of it. It seemed everyone had gotten what they wanted except for his own House. All he had to show for two years of war was a foreigner that was yet to prove himself.

Winter was coming the words came to him. That would show the man's true worth. The only thing he had to do was be patient.


	6. Chapter 6

**8 month**

**285 AL**

The Trading trip to White Harbour was most profitable. Marcus had brought a great many carts in order to transport the three hundred barrels he had cobbled together on short notice from the storage of still. The journey itself was uneventful and he had managed to sell them to the merchant's guild for a decent price. Marcus had also spent some time in the town itself after the business was concluded enjoying a lifestyle that was at least a little better then living in a cold tower. He had however abstained from women in his bed as he wasn't willing to push his own luck on the matter.

Once rested enough he had returned to his own modest domain with the now empty caravan and a small bag full of gold richer. The trip while profitable proved that it was inefficient in terms of steady income. He needed the merchants to come to him instead of the other way around in order to truly grow.

The few carts that passed through Moat Cailin every few weeks did not sell enough goods or buy for that matter. That is to say they did plenty of both, but the sheer volume they were capable of transporting back and forth was quite meager for his tastes. He needed a port of his own, but that would take at least a few years to be completed and further few years for trade to pick up. The biggest issue was that it would take at least a decade more to have access to eastern ports. Marcus would have to be content with trading with the Westernlands and the Reach. This wasn't all bad however as even from rumor it was apparent that they were the richest of the seven. There was however the ever present danger of Iron born raiders that would be hanging over his head in such ventures.

Marcus pushed his idle musings to the side as he was currently beating his head over the schematics of the Bessemer converter. When he returned he had discovered slight errors in the build that had taken him nearly a month to fix. He was currently browsing through the various schematics trying to puzzle out any mistakes he could have made. The schematics themselves showed no errors; therefore the problem was with the assembly itself. The parts were made to specification and no one else had access to the site but him to his knowledge. Marcus hated to admit it, but he couldn't blame anyone else for this mistake, but himself.

He needed to finish this project if he was to start construction on the new keep around the three towers that were the only entrance into the town. The project called for reinforced concrete and while he could begin construction right now the steel costs would be prohibitive in the extreme considering how much steel would be needed to build even a single wall with this method. Marcus had done the calculations when he had discovered the faults in the new foundry. To put it bluntly it would be the equivalent of mustering a not so small army and equipping them all with heavy armor and steel weapons. In other words tens of thousands of golden dragons. Cheap steel was needed in order to make the project economical.

Marcus had however ordered the ground to be surveyed and the inner buildings that were not part of the walls or towers to begin construction seeing as the plans for the keep have been sitting on a shelf inside his own tower.

Considering his current abilities the project was quite daring. It called for two separate keeps of which the walls facing each other would form a semi-covered tunnel that would be the entrance to Moat Cailin. There would also be a gatehouse at the both ends of the tunnel. The gates themselves were supposed to have a mechanical mechanism and be made of solid steel half a meter thick, unfortunately this all required enormous amounts of steel and even with cheap steel would be quite expensive. Inside the keeps would be the various buildings required such as several barracks enough to comfortably house over one thousand five hundred soldiers. In time of need such as a siege the amount could easily double or triple. That itself was a huge feat or at least managing that and still having room for the various other buildings such as a stable and the commanders quarters that Marcus himself would be living in until such a time as he decided to build himself a proper palace one worthy of him and his abilities.

So long as there were no major problems Marcus foresaw that the keep would be nigh impregnable baring dragons. There was nothing else that would be able to get past the new keeps. The siege equipment employed by Lords and Kings of the age would likely be ineffectual against his walls and that was without counting the impassable terrain to the south were any army would have a hard time setting up an effective siege.

While the construction of the inner buildings had began and wouldn't take all that long. The construction of the walls and any new towers and gatehouses would take quite some time seeing as the walls had to by necessity be quite thick. He guessed the overall construction time of the twin keeps would take a little over two years, but then again that was a guess on his part. It could take significantly more or significantly less. It was a likely that he would know more once construction has started.

In the mean time he was faced with another bigger problem other than as the King would put it 'counting coppers'. Namely the issue of his depleting labor force. He had over three thousand people working on the canal and another thousand working in construction. He estimated that with the completion of the foundry his available male work force would run dry. That is unless he was willing to begin drafting people that already had a livelihood of their own at the moment. All those small businesses that were cropping up daily were vital to the town as they provided services that he was unwilling at this time to take under his stewardship and more to the point they paid taxes.

Marcus was uncomfortable with having his entire labor force to be focused on heavy industry with so little inbound trade take up the slack. Such a move could seriously cripple his town for the foreseeable future and its long term income.

He was considering modernizing the textile industry and namely wool as he had plenty of it at the moment and was likely to easily procure more with little to no difficulty. The biggest benefit aside from the sheer volume of cloth produced and the subsequent income was the simple fact that most of the labor force was likely to be female. The issue with it wasn't that he couldn't build the industry from the ground up. It was that his knowledge on the process itself was somewhat incomplete. He could produce the machines required for operations, quite easily including a steam engine to power it all. The problem was that unlike with the steel foundry he was currently building, he knew little of how to operate the machines themselves. There was also the fact that a complete factory would require as few as a thousand workers. The biggest issue was however the coal consumption of such a factory. It was beyond a doubt going to require several tons of coal to operate any steam engine and without knowing how much coal the residential complex's would require during winter. He did not know whether he would produce enough coal to meet both demands at the moment.

This was however a future worry of his and Marcus didn't need to beat his head over it just yet. He was considering another equally important and much easier pet project after the Steel mill. Namely glass. He knew how to make it unlike any place in Westeros. True it would take some trial and error and he would have to think of some form of security so that he kept the monopoly of the precious substance. Marcus had asked maester Daeron about glass a few months back and as far the maester knew only the myrish produced in any significant quantity.

Marcus had at first thought to buy some myrish glass working slaves and free them before reaching Westeros and have them working for him. Unfortunately he wasn't as clever as he thought it would seem as there were no actual slaves that knew the process. Maester Daeron could have been wrong on the issue, but he doubted that seeing as the book he had given him detailing glasswork industry of Myr. It was said in the book that glass working was kept under the umbrage of several prominent myrish noble families that had some sort of a pact between themselves. The book was vague on specifics or any other useful information other then the fact that his clever scheme was quite unworkable.

The only way he was going to start such a industry was, if he started it himself with what knowledge he had. Granted his know how of glass making was limited, but he did know the process and it wouldn't be that difficult to begin production of simple panes of glass. He was quite simply incapable of making any more complex thing such as glassware, but for his needs he didn't need the stuff.

The only major problem he could foresee with this venture was that it would make him quite unpopular in Myr. He just couldn't say how unpopular at the moment though.

On the plus side it would earn him quite the notoriety among his fellow Lords.

The die was cast as Cesar had said so long ago as he crossed the Rubicon. Tomorrow he would send a small party to tour all the villages on the Bite and instruct them to collect several barrels of silica from the beach front. How exactly he was going to explain to them what it is that they were supposed to collect for him on the other hand was a headache for tomorrow and he was going cross his fingers that they don't just shovel sand into a barrel and call it a day.

As the Steel Mill was on schedule right now and there were the future issues with glass production to consider. Marcus decided to head for his tower and get drunk in preparations for the future headaches that would inevitably come from his ventures. Maybe he could even begin reading that monstrous book on laws that Daeron had given him.

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The next morning found Marcus sipping from a cup of tea nursing a headache. It might not have been coffee, but he was thankful that there was at least some decent tea to be found in his own domain.

He was currently waiting for maester Daeron to come to hall he was using to hold court and begin the most onerous part of his day. The hearing of petitions, requests and judging of felons. There weren't many felons as of yet, the most he had to deal with was various bar brawls. Wanting to keep it that way he had ordered the good captain to train another two hundred soldiers just in case. Marcus knew that sooner or later he would have to do more in regards to his own armed force other than simply enlarging it. However knowing that there was little they would need to deal with for quite some time other then bandits, brigands and other such undesirables that is. He thought it best to first grow his town and focus on his immediate concerns and fix the problems he already had instead of worrying about problems he might have in the future.

Marcus could soon hear the maester approaching down the hall and could already feel the headache returning just thinking of the menial things he would have to deal with today.

Soon maester Dearon entered bowed slightly and promptly began to speak "My Lord before we begin the day's proceedings I must tell you that we have received quite a few letters while you were off on your business trip to White Harbor."

This bit of news garnered Marcus's surprise and puzzlement as to who might have written him and why. He promptly voice his thoughts "That's peculiar to say the least. Have you read them?"

"Yes my Lord these..." He said waiving a small stack of papers "are form House Cox and Paege from the Riverlands and this is from House Templeton of the Vake. All three are knightly houses and are requesting you consideration for marriage between yourself and a eligible daughter from each house as it were."

This was something that while aware of Marcus wasn't expecting in the slightest when he awoke this morning. He composed himself after half a minute and replied to the maester "Write them a polite letter saying that I am not accepting any such advances at this time."

"Very well my lord. These here are from Lords Frey and Piper of the Riverlands and Lords Royce and Redfort from the Vale." The Maester continioued.

Marcus's stomach began doing flips as soon as he heard Frey and had a suspicion as to what this might be as well, but had to ask to make sure and he did just that , hoping against hope that he was wrong "Please tell me these aren't marriage proposals as well?"

"I cannot do that unfortunately my Lord." Daeron responded shortly being puzzled as to his lords behavior. He had thought that his delay in bringing him the proposals would earn him his lords ire, but instead Lord Lane was acting quite peculiar to the news. Most in the position of the young Lord would be overjoyed seeing as he was only a first generation noble as far as westerosi Lords were concerned.

Marcus for his part was contemplating having the maester simply burn the letters, but came to his senses knowing that would be an impulsive and unwise on his part. No matter how much he detested the Frey's and it wasn't simply because of what he knew from his own world. He had heard stories from the refugees of how the 'late Walder Frey' would exact a toll so high that went as far as stripping them of all their belongings in a few cases even the clothes on their backs. However Marcus knew that as despicable as the 'late Walder Fray' was he was also a smart, if vile man. That and he didn't know the other houses mentioned that well to punish them out of spite.

Instead Marcus simply ordered to in his own words "Write a letter to those Houses as well to the same effect, but make it more flowery. Now please tell me there are some letters that are not marriage proposals?"

"I'm afraid not at this time my Lord" responded the maester simply becoming even more puzzled at his Lords behavior.

From there Marcus's day only seem to become worse as he had to hear close to fifty supplicants that day.

He knew that he had to marry a local lass if he wanted to make his current standing in Westeros permanent. He could for now say if asked that he was holding out for a better offer. However that would work only for so long before he truly had to pick one and he couldn't know what the future would bring. For all he knew the future applicants would be of even poorer stock then the current, if that was at all possible.

The rest of the day went a little better for Marcus as he spent it setting up a glass working lab for himself that could later be expanded into a workshop. All in all there was a lot of going from one end of town to the other. This helped him clear his head of the earlier unpleasantness and had the added bonus of him being able to look at the town's development from the ground up. Instead of from the top of a tower.

He was glad to see that the sewer system was doing its job. The smell was at least bearable, if not exactly that of roses. Most of the stink came from the people themselves, but that was to be expected. He was surprised to learn that unlike his own world's medieval times this world did indeed have bathhouses even if they weren't all that common it would seem and mostly only for the rich and noble. He was hoping to change that in the near future, but for now he would have to bear it like everyone else.

Overall the town looked well in his opinion. It was growing rapidly and would continue to do so once connected to the Fever River. At least he hoped. Marcus showed a grin at seeing his new sigil unto a fountain. It was a lot more impressive in his modest opinion then a simple cross and while no one in this world knew the significance of it he was sure that in time it would become etched in everyone's mind.

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The rest of Marcus's week rather uneventfully. The most he had to do was attempt to not increase the list of project he was currently running.

The Steel Mill was on schedule the Bessemer converter was finally ready ahead of schedule and now it was all about instituting the system of ladles and finalizes the process. All that he had left was to hire the work force itself to run the place. The Mill was quite impressive, if he was to say so himself and expensive it cost him a little over twenty thousand golden dragons. That was mostly due to the large quantity of steel he needed for the project. He all but knew that the thing would pay for itself once operational. It didn't however help his heartstrings any when he added it all up. All twelve of the tenements put together cost him less than a third of what this little marvel had cost him. It would be half a month by his estimate before production could begin at full steam. He already had an impressive quantity of iron stockpiled over the time since the mines have been operational. If nothing went wrong when operations begin he suspected that he would have hundreds of tons of steel available by the end of the year. That would be more than enough for his castle. He had even had a name picked for it. 'Twin peaks' due to the two square towers that would be sticking from the central buildings of both keeps.

The party he had sent to the Bite for silica had finally returned yesterday with not one, but three barrels of the stuff. Marcus had spent the entire day working on making glass with just silica and crushed limestone. The first few attempts while successful in producing glass, were complete failures in making it into a pane. It was simply a lump of misshapen glass. Fortunately he could recycle it. By the end of the day he had managed to produce a pane a glass and was even certain he could tech someone how to do it. The only problem was that the glass was light green in color. He knew that he could fix this by adding soda to the process, however he didn't know where to find some or simply couldn't think of any place at the moment. He was quite tired and taxed at the moment. The color of the glass was due to a high iron content of the silica. In truth Marcus was half expecting this due to the limestone rich soil.

Marcus also suspected that he could get much purer silica from Dorne as he was doubtful that there would be much in the way of contamination of the soil there. However for the time being green glass would do just fine for what he had in mind. His biggest problem now was finding reliable workers that wouldn't sell him out at first opportunity. That was likely to take some time unfortunately as it wasn't an easy task.

After that he had to similar project in minds for the glass. Aside from adding windows to the tenements. He was going to cover the roof of the tenements with hothouses, as well as another larger hothouse that would be surrounded by walls. He was expecting thieving from the second larger one to be a problem during winter and was hoping to at least minimize it. He was certain that the walls would only deter the stupid thieves and not the smart or the determined. That one would unfortunately need quite a lot of glass in order to be able to feed as he hoped at least fifty thousand individuals. It would be quite the ambitious project and thus would go last. He was going to make it this large, because once the walls were build it would be impossible to expand it and he would need to build an entirely new hothouse, when the town expanded. At least this way he would be exporting food for the rest of the north.

This alone would not only be able to bring in some revenue, but as he was the only one in Westeros to produce glass would make him known throughout the Kingdoms even more then his battle prowess.

On another unrelated note. Marcus had recently learned that the bandit problem in the Riverlands has been dealt with, or at least such was the message. There were still bandits to be sure, but they no longer were that big of a problem. The situation in the Vale as he learned from one of the more tedious books maester Daeron had lent him was not so simple. The mountain tribes seemed to be a problem that has been going on for thousands of years and to date no one has been able to deal with them one way or the other. While raiding season seems to have ended for the tribesmen at least for now. Marcus was however certain that it will pick up again sooner or later. This while horrible meant that he should be expecting a new wave of refugees as soon as the mountain tribes felt like resuming hostilities.

There were detailed accounts of what the mountain clans did and why when they raided into the Vale. Marcus had only skimmed those accounts himself, but that was enough to paint a gruesome picture even by westerosi standards and westerosi as a rule were not particularly Squamish.

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**2 month**

**286 AL**

It had been four months since the completion of the Steel Mill and much has happened since then. His two cash cows were finally showing their prowess. He was making steel at astonishing rate now and even though he was even building a stockpile of steel no other man in Westeros could claim there was the problem that his Steel Mill required tons of iron for even a day of operation. There being two batches as it took eight hours per batch. Soon even his stockpile of iron substantial as it was would run out and there was no way that a single mine could keep up with the rate of production, even if he spent large amounts of time on improving his own iron output.

For now however it was sufficient. He was producing the necessary rebar for the construction of the 'Twin peaks' and in all likelihood would have enough even though he had to expand the design slightly to accommodate the numbers of people he wanted to house inside it, as the old design seemed insufficient. The gatehouse itself was finished baring the gates themselves of course. He was going to save them for last as they would eat into his stockpile of steel quite a lot. Even without those two, however the construction of the rest of both keeps would take more than a year and a half, maybe two. Even now though as bare bones as it was it was shaping to be quite the sight. With two large and imposing bronze eagles at each entrance guarding the way. It was also a money pit even with the cheap steel, but a necessary one. Marcus's early estimates put the cost over eighty thousand dragons and he was expecting that to climb.

On the other hand there was the new budding glass works to consider. It had taken him a little over a month and a half to find a half decent human being willing to do the work that he thought might be trustworthy, but only time would tell. Given a stockpile of materials production started smoothly and in only a month and a half had managed to produce enough panes to make all the hothouses slated for the roofs of the tenements. Once the glass was available the construction wasn't difficult or costly as far as he was concerned. Using wood for supports and the like. It had taken longer to transport and set up the soil then it took to build the things and there was no shortage of voluntaries to work them. He had just recently began to add widows to the tenements to make them more energy efficient and cost less coal t heat during winter. He had to slow down the installation however when as soon as the hothouses were completed traveling merchants began to ask around were the local Lord had gotten all this glass from and were quite astonished to learn it was made in town. Thus he began to sell his cheap colored glass. Marcus even sold it for prices he himself would consider outrageous and still people bought the damn things. There was even a slight if quite noticeable increase in passing merchants. He was almost certain this increase would continue for quite some time. The signs were all there all he needed to do was look.

There were of course other minor things he had done in the last four months such as setting up a cloth manufacture. This however wasn't anything complicated as he first thought of doing. There wasn't even any improvement in the methods utilized whatsoever at the moment. It was just a building where he had gathered women in large numbers to do what they normally would have done, but instead of it bearing spread throughout his domain it was centered in the town he called his seat of power. He had only centralized the process, but he was already seeing benefits and the quality of the wool cloth was raising as the women learned from each other over time. Marcus had plans to modernize the process over time, but it was not an immediate priority as he had other more important things to worry about and likely would keep having.

There was one other thing he had done recently and that is to build a large where house portioned in two. One was to be filled with items to be bought from merchants passing through and the other with items to be sold. He had a mind to put one of the lads that maester Daeron has been teaching, but first the lad in question needed to be thought numbers as the maesters called mathematics and fast. He had perused a book on the subject and it made him want to laugh at what the maesters thought of as mathematics. He was certain that the ancient Greeks and Egyptians had a better understanding then the maesters of Westeros. This was all beside the point however as anything he might do on the subject was quite some time away.

In regards to the ware house he had placed it on the main road of the town as to make it easy for any merchant to find and he was already setting up a list of things he was going to buy wholesale. This was all done so that every time a merchant wanted to buy goods like vodka, steel and glass. They didn't have to wait and buy it directly from him as he imagined that in the future, if he didn't pawn that function on some sod that it was likely to consume most of his day.

All his plans for the near future came to a halt as he had received a letter from Winterfell that Lord Stark wanted to speak with him. That was not what the letter said exactly and was likely written by Winterfell's own maester in a more official sounding way, but it was easy to guess. What Marcus had no idea about was what exactly did his liege want to talk about.

The letter couldn't have come at a worse possible time however as the western portion of the canal was nearly completed and there was a lot of construction still to be done on the end of Moat Cailin, before the canal was flooded.

He had given orders to halt the construction of the keeps for the time being as the work force needed to be shuffled. They were instead to shore up both ends of the canal within the city as well as build a small harbor. The last part was the one he was the least certain about. He had ordered the construction of a sea wall or would that be a river wall. The wall would be constructed in such a way that it would create a bottleneck allowing only for one large ship or two longships to pass through at a time. Marcus had made provisions for expansion of the city and had ordered it built quite a way from what was currently the settlement of Moat Cailin.

He was hoping that he hadn't forgotten something, but that would only become evident with time. For now he strapped two small barrels of vodka to his horse and headed for Winterfell with a trio of guards as his escorts.

Soon he was off following the Kings road and of to see a Liege about unknown matters.

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**4 month**

** 286 AL**

It had taken over two months and then some to reach Winterfell and that was by following the King's Road. Calling it a road however would be overstating things as it was little more than a well traveled dirt path. As such the journey wasn't the most pleasant. He could take the week's journey to White Harbor just fine, but sleeping in furs that proved mediocre in warming someone at night even when fully clothed sans armor of course. The entire experience made him grumpy in the extreme. Thus when the sight of the capitol of the North came into view he stared at it with relief and quite some awe. It was an impressive piece of engineering and it was vast. It probably had a total capacity that was well over ten thousand, however he doubted that at present it held more than three and that was soldiers and the various civilians combined. It was nevertheless a most impressive sight among the vast wilderness of the North.

As his party was getting nearer Marcus could see the wolf banner flying high from every tower and there seemed to be quite a few towers to this grand castle. Soon the party made their way through the gates under the watchful eye of the sentries and rode towards the main building where Marcus could see Lord Eddard Stark and his wife were waiting for his party, probably alerted to the arrival of the party by the men on top of the walls.

Marcus soon reached his destination and upon dismounting promptly kneeling before his liege lord in the muddy ground and saying "My lord I come as requested."

"Rise Lord Lane." Lord Stark commands.

Marcus then turns and addresses the Lady Tully as is proper in such a occasion and bows slightly "Well met my Lady"

"Well met Lord Lane. A feast is being prepared for tonight I hope it is towards your satisfaction. The servants are on hand to show you to your accommodation." Lady Tully responds warmly. What she says however doesn't surprise Marcus in the slightest as it is the way things are done Westeros.

"A feast was not necessary My lady, but quite welcome all the same. As to accommodations I would rather first take some of your Lord husbands time before that if permissible." Marcus in full lordly persona responds in kind.

"That is quite alright Lord Lane there are a few things I would like to discuss with you as it is, but in a better environment then this." Lord Starks interjects and motions for you to follow.

As he begins to follow Marcus suddenly remembers the gift he has brought and says "Where are my manners. I have brought a little something as a gift. You might have heard of that new brew I'm making it is quite helpful in warming a person in the cold northern nights, if it is drank in moderation." Here he makes a motion for his guards to bring forth the two barrels of vodka he has brought with him.

"This was all quite unnecessary my Lord." Lady Catlyn says as she sees the barrels.

"Nevertheless I insist. I didn't want to come empty handed." Marcus interjects.

"You are quite welcome my Lord." Lady Catlyn responds and Marcus begins the get a feeling that she was simply going through the motions as it were.

The formalities done with Marcus fallows Lord Stark in silence as they enter a simple room barren of much in the way of decorations or much at all for that matter save a table and a few chairs.

As both Lords seat themselves around the table Lord Stark begins "You are probably wondering why I have called you all the way here to Winterfell with little reason given?"

"You called and I came. As soon as I was able. That said however it has crossed my mind as to the reason... my Lord." Marcus says

Lord Stark smiles slightly at that or at least Marcus thought so and responds "I have recently received reports on your progress regarding the restoration of Moat Cailin and quite honestly I find them a little amazing."

Marcus didn't know whether to frown or smirk at this. He chose smirking after a moment to contemplate things. Stark was in his right to spy on him if he wanted to. He was a little saddened at the lack of trust in him, but then again what was he to expect.

"Well you have to be more specific than that. I have done a great many things in the last few years." Marcus smirked at his liege as he laid himself back into the chair.

Lord Stark nods at this and says "Let's start with that canal of yours. I honestly didn't think you were serious at the time and yet I hear you are about to connect it to the Fever."

"I'm proud to say that it is going as planed on that front. Mot Cailin should be ready to receive ships by the end of the year." Marcus states matter-of-factly to Lord Stark.

"Impressive in on itself, but I must confess that is not why I summoned you to Winterfell. I already know about your miracle new way to produce steel and that impressive display with the glass working..." Starts Lord Stark, but is interrupted.

Marcus raises his hand slightly and interrupts his Lord "To be fair while those are two of my more impressive projects to date both have their own problems. The steel production doesn't have the needed resources to keep running at full capacity for a very long time as thing stand. Maybe another six months at best before there is an iron shortage and while I'm working to fix that it will be quite a while before that can happen. As to the glass it currently only comes in green and in panes. I could try and expand to glassware, but it would take time and it would still be green glassware."

Lord Stark frowns at first, but then carefully listens to the impromptu report Marcus was giving and after he is done takes a moment to comprehend all this and say "It doesn't seem like much of problem to me even green glass is a rarity hear in the North and from what I hear you are selling it quite cheaply for such a valuable commodity. The Iron you could probably buy from the other Lords near you. Most of them have at least a small iron mine running to produce iron for their own use."

The last bit about how many iron deposits there were in the North surprised Marcus. There were four noble House's he was a neighbor to not counting the three islands known as the three sisters to the east. House Cerwyn to the North, houses Dustin and Tallhart to the west and house Manderly to the east. Once he had at least one ship he would have to see about trade with Torrhen's square and Barrowton as well as Flint's finger to the south west. That was all for later his little musings right now were counterproductive. He had a meeting with Lord Stark after all.

"Considering that it cost's very little to make. Glass that is. I consider even my current prices to be a robbery. Oh well. I am more interested as to why you have summoned me all the way here if not to give report on my doings in Moat Cailin?" Marcus ventures questioningly.

Stark frown slightly, but then again he seems to do that a lot and Marcus thinks little of it and the nods and say "True enough. I have summoned you to ask your advice on a certain delicate mater"

This puzzles Marcus even more but he doesn't voice his puzzlement instead he simply asks "And what mater would that be exactly my lord?"

"You have sufficiently proven your own claim to the administrative abilities you posses by turning in a few short years a desolate region into the fifth Largest settlement in the North in just a few short years..." Stark began, but was again interrupted by Marcus.

"Wait... fifth. I know that White Harbor is the biggest, but what about two, three and four?" Marcus questions.

Annoyed at being interrupted yet again Lord Stark says "Barrowton, Torrhen's square and winter town respectively. Now if you are quite done interrupting me." at that Marcus simply nods and Stark pushes on "As I was saying I would like your advice on how to make the North more prosperous and any suggestions you might have, but all that can wait until tomorrow. Now we have a feast to prepare for and it would greatly displease Cat, if you were to be late for your own feast."

Marcus grimaces at this he disliked westeros feast where he was the center of attention "Best not keep your lady wife waiting then and for the record this really was unnecessary."

Stark simply nods as both men make to leave "I know, but I really wanted to do this in person. I hope you understand"

"I do my Lord"

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The morning after the feast Marcus was well rested under a pile of furs. The feast itself had less the feel of a fest and more along the lines of family dinner he happened to be invited to. He liked that very much.

He was breaking his fast when Lord Stark entered business as usual. Marcus for his part even though he had very little time to think on ways to help the North had a few ideas for his liege.

It didn't surprise Marcus that after a few minutes of eating Lord Stark demanded to hear any suggestions he might have for the North as a whole.

"Bear in mind I didn't have long to think on this, but I have a few suggestions that might help regardless." Marcus said waiting for the go ahead to continue.

Instead Lord Stark simply said "We will wait for maester Luwin beforehand."

The continued to eat in silence for a few minutes until the aging maester entered the hall with parchments and books in both hands "I hope that I'm not late my lords."

"Just in time maester. Take a seat so we can get started." Marcus responds.

"Well now that maester Luwin is here I would hear your suggestions Lord Lane." Lord Stark stated simply.

"Simply put we can begin with roads." Stated Marcus simply.

"We have a road already." Stated Lord Stark.

"The Kings road is more a well walked path then an actual road my Lord." Replied Marcus.

"What do you suggest then?" Asked maester Luwin.

"We can begin to build a road from Moat Cailin upwards to renovate the Kings road as a test case and then branch of to connect it to White Harbour, Torrhen square, Barrowton, castle Cerwyn and Winterfell. The road is easily built once you know how. If the Lords of the places I mentioned supply the majority of the labor I will provide the supervisors to tell him how to build it." Marcus explained.

"Maester Luwin. What do you think?" Lord Stark asked the maester.

„The books tell us of a time long ago when the Valyrians build their own roads and they remain in use to this day. If Lord Lane could indeed do what he claims it would be a great boon to the North My lord." Luwin explains

"Very well we will work out the details in the next few days I would however like to hear any other suggestions you might have." States Stark

"Well I have noticed that the traffic north is all but a trickle it took a while, but I have managed to pin point the cause. It would seem that the Frey's are waging a sort of economic war against us. Before you say anything I know how this sounds, but it is the truth. Instead of with swords they are stifling our economy and trade on purpose. The only way north is through the Twins and the Fray's know that and take their pound of flesh from trade going north..." Marcus explained, but was suddenly interrupted by Lord Stark.

"I have heard this many a time since I have become a Lord, but none have offered a solution to this problem yet. If you have a solution I would gladly hear it." Stated Lord Stark.

"Well as a matter of fact I do. There is cheap option and a not so cheap option. The not so cheap option is to build another bridge on the Green Fork..." Marcus said but was interrupted by lord Stark yet again.

"That would require the intervention if my good father Hoster Tully and while I don't doubt his good intentions I'm doubtful he would be able to find the funds for a venture of this size." Lord Stark says.

There goes that option Marcus thought as he tried option two "There is also the cheap version that we could use, but it would still required the intervention of House Tully. I would give you the technical details later, but suffice it to say, it is a ferry system that would require very little in terms of resources, or money to implement. It could be as few as a two large wooden boats to go back and forth. The biggest challenge would be to find someone trustworthy to manage the crossing that wouldn't simply be another Walder Frey."

"That could prove a deceptively simple yet effective solution my Lord" Says maester Luwin to Lord Stark.

"Very well I would write Hoster Tully once we finish here. It wouldn't hurt to at least ask I suppose." concedes Lord Stark.

"There is one other thing and this one thing is a bit more dubious and that is opening a few schools for the small folk or merchant families and the like. Before you say anything maester hear me out please I know that the value of such a thing would likely not be immediately apparent. Once I return I would start on a new project and that is paper. It is much like parchment, but cheaper and easier to make as well as a printing press that would help us to copy an enormous amount of books quickly." Says Marcus.

"The things you say sound amazing my lord, if they are possible, but I still don't see how it would help." says maester Luwin somewhat skeptically.

"It wouldn't take much in the way of cost to set up a school to teach the basics like reading, writing and simple numbers. That would mean that we will at the very least have a crop of underlings that could manage minor things in our stead instead of having craete new lordships. Also no offence to your order maester, but you are too concerned with preserving the knowledge instead of advancing it. That is what I hope to change. I would be making a test case in the next few years within Moat Cailin you can judge the matter on that." finishes Marcus

"Very well. I would be curious to see it as well. It is as bold as any of your ventures thus far; bolder even." Nods Lord Stark.

"There is some truth to what you say about my order although few would admit as such. Let us hope that it would work as you intend, however only time will I'm afraid." says maester Luwin in turn.

"Do you have any other suggestions that I should take under advisement?" Asks Lord Stark.

"Other than tasking someone to build the North a trade fleet. No my lord" responds Marcus.

"Very well let us adjourn for now." Lord Stark says and with that the meeting comes to an end.


	7. Chapter 7

**7 month**

**286 AL**

Marcus had spent several weeks discussing the proposals he had put forth and how they would work. He was to begin road construction northwards as soon as he got back, however he did not know where the people for that would come from. Perhaps he could pull two dozen men from castle construction. Granted it would be slow going with so few men, but no one could accuse him he was not doing his part and that would have to be enough for now. There was actually not much discussion on that as it was a simple and straightforward matter. He imagined the complications would begin when the construction entered the fief's of other lords, but that wouldn't be for some time yet.

The bigger concern was the new crossings he had proposed. He had to explain more than a few times to both Lord Stark and maester Luwin what economic warfare meant, but after the first few tries Marcus had managed to simplify it enough so that there was no doubt that they understood the concept. Lord Stark was highly displeased with what he heard after he understood what the whole concept actually was and meant for the North. Privately Marcus thought that the former didn't matter to him as much as the latter. Granted Marcus had painted the worst case scenario and had told both men as much.

After doing a few concept sketches for Lord Stark on parchment that maester Luwin had provided on the barges themselves and how they would work and that was not easy to do on parchment. The barges themselves weren't overly complicated affair the were simply large wooden rafts big enough to fit ten carts with horses easily. The mechanism was a little more complicated as it would be almost impossible to use conventional means and by that he meant oars. It was to be propelled by a manually driven paddle wheel. He estimated that six men would comfortably be able to do the job. He had eliminated steering entirely by adding twin rope assemblies that would be anchored at both ends that would guide the rafts as they were being propelled.

Maester Luwin gushed over the design for the paddle wheel and asked all sorts of questions in regards to its use and whether it could be used on bigger ships to propel them much the same as the rafts. Here Marcus was careful to point out that yes it could if were able to power it, but the maester seemed undeterred. He didn't know what would come of that and didn't care. Marcus found the maester good company as the man was intelligent and quick witted, if a little reserved sort of a person. Marcus had talked at lengths to the maester about astronomy and had shared a few of his 'theories' regarding the subject. Such as the seven wanderers being planets or the fact that winter were caused, by an erratic orbit of our own planet. He had to of course first what an orbit was and that their own planet and the sun revolved around the sun. At one point the maester had began to follow Marcus and write these things down. He was quite excited about all this new knowledge and had told Marcus that he would write the Citadel and request they send to Moat Cailin the archmeater in charge of astronomy. To that Marcus responded that he had no problem with the suggestion. All in all it wasn't a particularly useful bit of knowledge to Marcus and it likely won't be relevant for a few hundred years.

A response had come during that time from Hoster Tully on the matter of the barges. The letter he had written said that he was agreeable to the idea, but was a bit hesitant. Marcus had no idea as to why and neither did Lord Stark beyond that it was politics of some sort. Marcus had suggested that there be a proposal for three crossings. One near Seagard, one near Fairmarket and one further south of Fairmarket, however Marcus doubted that the third would be done at all. It was more of a case of order three and get two in this case. At least Marcus was hoping to get two.

He had soon after that bid the Stark family plus Luwin goodbye as the Lady Stark has heavy with a child and was to deliver in the coming months. He didn't want be in their way and it was after all a family matter. He had however promised to send them a gift of a larger stockpile of firewater to top up their own stockpile once the child was born.

It had taken Marcus a little over a month and a half to make the journey back, but that was to be expected now that he somewhat knew the way so to speak.

That sight that greeted him once he reached Moat Cailin was welcome one, not that he minded Winterfell, but this here was already turning into a home for him and looking at all that he had accomplished from a nearby hill filled him with pride.

He was once again home and this little vacation of his was over. It was time to get back to work.

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Now that he was back in Moat Cailin Marcus took the time see how everything has been faring in his absence. The Still and the Steel Mill were doing well and in his absence nothing much has happened that he should be worried about. Finnegan and Daeron have been keeping a close eye on things it would seem.

The new port was completed in his absences as well as the river wall and the two towers that would eventually raise a metal chain to restrict entrance of unwanted elements into port when needed, but that was a long way from now. He didn't have the metal to waste on such a unnecessary project as of yet. The canal workers had completed the final leg of the western canal in his absence and as per his instructions were awaiting his orders to flood the canal. All this meant that they have been sitting on their asses for the last few months and still gotten paid for not doing any work.

Work on 'Twin Peaks' had resumed just last last month on the orders of the good captain. The outer walls were beginning to take shape now and the heavy steel monstrosities were finally in place at last. That amazed Marcus he had thought that no one around here would have the brain cells required to put it together even with his carefully written instructions on the matter. Apparently, however the good maester Daeron proved him wrong as he had overseen the placement himself. It wasn't so much as he thought no one would be able to move the gate in position as it was a matter of the gear assembly that would enable the doors to open and close. There were quite a lot of gears for each door that had to be made just right and put in an exact and specific place in order for everything to work. Maester Daeron had admitted to him that he found the work quite challenging and that he was amazed at how the gears worked. He was apparently currently studying gears and their properties. Whatever that really meant. At least he had the time now that all six lads were at a level he was comfortable with or so he claimed.

Speaking of the lads that Daeron has been teaching. He now finally had the time to put them to good use. Now that it would seem that there was nothing that would require his direct supervision. Marcus didn't know how to feel about that, but figured that it would change once he got a new project going.

Back to the lads in question. He would place one or two in charge at the new Stock exchange to buy and sell goods to passing merchants. It wouldn't take him more then an hour to make a list of what to buy and sell in what quantities and how much he was to pay for every good and how much to sell the town's own goods at.

Marcus would also put two in charge of something he had cooked up on the way back from Winterfell namely an employment office. Basically it would be a simple building people looking for work could go to and see what work was available. The place would make some profit by offering the same service to business owners. They would go there and pay a fee in order to be put on the list of places needing workers and the requirements for the individual workers. Marcus imagined that would come quite handy in the future.

The last two lads would go to the new school he would be building soon and teach simple things like reading, writing and numbers. It was doubtful that there would be many takers at first, but once the new requirement of needing does things in order to manage a place like the still or the steel mill in his name was issued he imagine that it would quickly change. Especially when it was discovered that the pedigree didn't matter one bit.

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It took a week for the canal to be flooded and there was much cheering when the water reached the town. It could also have something to do with the fact that Marcus had ordered half a ton of fire water to be distributed to all the watering halls and be given for free to any ho wanted it.

Captain Finnegan was quite put out by the news as it would be his job to keep order while all this was going around and there was no doubt in either men's minds that there would be quite a few disturbances and bar brawls during the festivities.

Marcus paid it no mind. Let the people have a little fun. In a week's time the construction on the eastern portion would begin and that is likely to take much more time. He estimated at least ten years. Probably more along the lines of fifteen, if he was being realistic about things.

There was another bit of good news that the captain had shared with him and it pleased Marcus immensely. While he had gone north in dribs and drabs people were coming to Moat Cailin to settle, both from the north and coming through the causway from the south. It would seem that news of there being work a plenty in Moat Cailin had spread among the smallfolk of both the Vale and the Riverlands.

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**8 month**

**286 AL**

Last month's celebration of the completion of the canal had a sad and unfortunate conclusion that mired the otherwise jubilant month for Marcus. Perhaps he should have taken Finnegan's concerns more seriously, but in the end it was bound to happen eventually. There were several murders that happened amidst the confusion of the festivities. They had caught the perpetrators of all, but one of the murders in question. Two of the murders had loudly proclaimed that they chose the black as the local saying goes once Marcus had sentenced them to death. It galled him to have them walk as it were even if it is to join the Night's Watch on the ever frozen wall at the end of the world. He was hoping they got eaten by the Thens. The other four murderers he had executed himself with a war axe given to him by Finnegan. It was a straightforward affair.

It was different then killing enemy soldiers. He was conditioned to kill people in war and this world had given him even more of an iron stomach for death the he had before. This however was the first time he had killed someone that wasn't trying to kill him in return. They were murderers sure, but given the state of the legal system it didn't matter really. There was even less of way to determine guilt here. Even in his old world innocent people got sentenced unjustly. Here guilt didn't really matter. Only the will and opinion of the presiding Lord and or King. It was another stark reminder of the dangers and cruelty of this new world he now found himself in.

Even though the month started with this unfortunate affair. It wasn't all bad news it would seem. He had received just yesterday news from Winterfell. It was said in the letter that Hoster Tully had decided on building two crossings on the Green Fork after some persuasion by Lord Stark. It was to be as Marcus predicted he would get the two more sensible crossings. It was unknown what the reaction of the Freys would be to the crossings at this time, but it was to early to tell.

Lord Stark had already sent a messenger with Marcus's sketches south to Riverrun apparently. Marcus privately estimated the completion of each crossing to take anywhere from three to six months, depending on how serious the Tully's and the Houses charged with the job were about said crossings. The letter had also said that the Lady Tully had given Lord Stark a daughter that they named Sansa. Wasn't that a big surprise? He had loaded a cart full of firewater and a cart full of panes of glass as a gift to House Stark. He had even spent the time in the small workshop himself to make glass wolf for the little girl as a present. That had taken the better part of a week given he wasn't that skilled when it came to the finer points of glass making. At a few points he was even given directions by the glassmaker that he himself had thought how to make glass. The irony wasn't lost on him, but it was all together a good thing as this meant that soon the operation could be expanded to produce glassware like cups and vases. Granted it would still be green, but it was progress all the same. In regards to the wolf statue he had made when finished Marcus wasn't sure whether it was a wolf or a dog. It would have to do as he wasn't willing to spend another week wasting time on something like that. He had loaded it on the cart and given orders as appropriate.

The rest of the month when he had the time Marcus had decided to use to improve his wool industry. It was currently going as well as could be expected. There were even basic looms already being used to weave the finished product as it turned out they did indeed have looms. It was stupid of Marcus to think that they didn't, but he could still improve the process immensely. The problem however remained. More and more wool was coming in and not enough has been going out. He had inspected the place and found the workers were quite diligent in their work. It could have just been the fact that his lordships presence was unnerving to the women. He had made the proclamation that there would be school starting soon and that they could go there in their free time and learn. That had garnered a laugh from the nervous women. The laughing stopped when he proclaimed that he would be looking for a supervisor of the factory and that if any of them met the education criteria they would be considered for the position and most likely given the position. This garnered more than a fair share of disbelief from the gathered women. This was likely to be the reaction of most of his workers he figured.

In any case he had decided to spend the next two months designing and building enough shuttle looms for the women to work with. That was likely to speed to process enough so that more finished product was produced in less time. The fact that it was likely to increase the quality of the cloth produced as well was merely an added bonus.

Marcus figured that this would at least get his mind off matters he didn't want to consider, or worry about other matters he shouldn't be worrying over.

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**10 month**

**286 AL**

It hadn't take out long at all to puzzle out the shuttle loom and the construction of enough looms to equip the nescient factory hadn't taken as long as he thought as it was still basically a loom and that is something the locals knew how to make. Even if it was a new design and the women already knew how to operate one and didn't need teaching. Not that he was able to teach them in the first place. All in all it had taken a little over a month. The production of woolen cloth has already picked up the pace and soon he would be able to sell it in bulk in order to make much needed money. There was little to be done while he was searching his thoughts for a new project to occupy his thoughts.

He had decided to do some accounting in regards to his pending and discovered that he was currently operating at a great loss. If he didn't fix that as soon as possible in a little less the two years' time he wouldn't be able to pay all the fancy salaries he had given everyone. The taxes could only go so far. The over land trade was all well and good and while it would likely expand due to the new crossings being build down south it wasn't enough to ensure he maintained the current standard let alone support growth. That was a matter that required further thought on his part.

In less gloomy news however Marcus was currently estimating that 'Twin peaks' would be done by this time next year. He was looking forward to that as it would free up the work force for other construction projects. The town was slowly growing and more housing would be needed soon, if this continued as it would appear that it was more than likely to happen. For now it could wait and there was the matter of constructing the road that he promised that he hadn't started to yet. He was going to re-task a few dozen workers onto that particular project sometime this week.

Further good news came from the fact that recently Moat Cailin had received its first ship by way of Barrowton. It was only a small trade galley and as her captain had put it they were merely browsing the wares. Marcus was however optimistic as a ship could carry far more goods than a simple cart. It is then that it hit him like a freight train. He needed a ship of his own in order to be able to sell his own wares at quantities that mattered.

One quick letter to Ser Davos requesting his aid in the matter of procuring a trustworthy captain and crew for a ship he would be building later and all he had to do is figure out what kind of ship he wanted to build. Even a simple galley like what the locals had would be difficult to build as he had no shipwrights in his town whatsoever. Then again he wasn't thinking of setting up a shipyard at the moment. Perhaps in the future, but right now it simply wouldn't be possible. Right now he needed to build one reasonably large ship to use as a trade vessel.

Unfortunately choosing the specifics of what type of ship to build wouldn't be easy. The planning stages alone were likely to take months. That is nothing to be said about construction of the vessel itself. Not that at the moment he could say anything about that.

There was much deliberation to be had in the near future about the various ins and outs, pros and cons. Of a whole plethora of things, but at least he had finally found an ambitious project to sink his teeth in. Marcus was already giddy with anticipation over all the possibilities. He knew quite a bit about ships thanks to his grandfather as the man had been navy man in his youth and served in World War two, but then again it seemed that practically everyone from his generation served in that particular war. Nothing drove the point home about how horrible a war could get like the details of that specific conflict.

The man had taken Marcus to a lot of navy yards and museums as a kid. The underhanded devil was probably trying to get him to join the navy when he grew up now that he thought about it. The man was very proud of him when he learned that Marcus was considering joining the military. When he finally signed on with the marines the man had reportedly said 'Well... at least it wasn't the army'.

These happy musings only spurred Marcus's desire to build something truly impressive that would make the old sailor proud. He had the knowledge of all manner of ships and their evolution crammed into his head from an early age after all.

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**1 month**

**287 AL**

It has been two months since Marcus decided that he would build himself a ship in order to increase the size of his economy. However two weeks into the planning of what ship to build exactly he had an epiphany. Building a ship of any size would require a great amount of workers in order for the ship to be completed in any reasonable amount of time. Fortunately the town has slowly been growing as time passed. While Marcus could no longer easily tell how many people lived in his town. He estimated the amount to be somewhere around fifteen thousand at the moment. This would more than likely allow him another thousand workers before he was again at the limit of what he could safely employ.

Marcus had gone ahead and sent another hundred men to speed up the road construction. He estimated that with the influx of new workers the construction in his territories would be finished in by the second month of 287. Then would come the hard part of cooperating with the other lords in order to extend the network further. Marcus doubted that there would be many problems on the matter, besides headaches. Lord Stark had commanded the other lords to comply on the matter and there was no doubt on the matter.

There was quite a lot of research that needed to be done before he even began construction on the vessel. He had sat down with maester Daeron and requested everything that the man had on ships and it turned out that it was quite the amount. It took Marcus quite a while to look through all the text, but it was a welcome distraction from his everyday regiment. Marcus enjoyed the time quite a lot, since it reminded him of a time long ago when he used to play couch potato. It was also enjoyable in a sense as he truly was learning something new and not learning about things he already knew.

It turns out that most of the ships were rather normal. Westeros employed galleys, longships, sloops, cogs and carracks. There were some minor design changes, but nothing that could easily be confirmed. There was one other thing that puzzled Marcus. Most vessels used for war were galleys whether small or large. Adding to this one of the few books that had any sort of navel tactics in it led Marcus to believe that the naval warfare of the time was depressingly simple and relying mostly on boarding. One of the largest ships he could find in the books was the Swan Ships of the summer islands. It was still larger than most ships of the age, but not impressively so.

It wasn't that the ships were large, but what worried Marcus was that there were many of them. The ironmen alone had over a thousand longships. The Redwyne had over three hundred ships of all sizes. Westernlands had somewhere between a hundred and two hundred ships most of those were moored at Lanisport. To the east the city of Qarth controlled over three thousand ships in all and was likely their biggest navel power in the known world. However many of the other free cities were nothing to look down upon as they mostly traded by sea themselves.

There likely were more than twenty thousand ships navigating the seas in the known world alone. That was a truly impressive number. Marcus knew for a fact that Europe in the medieval times didn't have half that amount. The most distressing thing however was that one ship no matter how impressive was unlikely to make much of a difference in the greater scheme of things.

While slightly disheartened by this news Marcus was no less determined to construct a ship worthy of admiration. At first he had thought to build an iron and/or steel steam ship, but the many headaches and challenges weren't something he was willing to tackle just yet. He had finally decided on a wooden steam ship and was in the process of designing it. The ship when finished would likely be one of the largest ships in the world at over eighty to a hundred meters in length and boasting a steam engine that would power twin paddle wheels. One on each side of the ship for better balance.

Going over the plans that he had already finished Marcus estimated that he could indeed complete the project if given enough time. All his plans came crashing down however when just yesterday maester Daeron barged into his study bringing a letter. Winter was finally here. Well to be fair it was going to be a month at worst and at best three before it finally settled down.

Those estimations did nothing to improve Marcus's disposition as of late. The entire thing has caught him flat footed. He had done some planning in the form of hot houses, but there was still a lot that could be easily accomplished that needed doing.

The two most pressing things that needed his attention however were the small mining town that over the last few years had grown in size and were now somewhere around two thousand people. Then there was the fishing village on the Bite the was supplying his glass works. Something needed to be done to improve their chances, if they were to survive the coming winter.

Closer to home Moat Cailin was most all set for winter as both the small hot houses on the roofs of the tenements and the larger walled hot house were completed. That combined with his current stores of food were likely to see the town through winter. Granted the still would need to draw down production, but considering that trade was all but going to stop during winter that was not likely going to be a problem.

Two things were currently on his mind as he was readying for his trip around the larger settlements in his land. The first was introducing closed hearths as that as it turns out was something simple and yet unknown that could improve survival chances for the average person. The second thing of note and this one was giving him much more trouble.

During winter only the steel mill, the still and the glass works would be operational. This left him with more than seven thousand people that would have nothing to do during the winter that was likely to last more than a year. He really couldn't remember anything about this winter ever occurring or at least being mentioned in the show or books. To his knowledge.

That was a lot of people with nothing to do during winter. It could turn into a huge problem, if he didn't think of something soon. After all idle hands are the devils play thing and all that.

He still had some time to ponder the issue before he had to make a decision on the matter. He was more troubled by the fact that both the castle and the moat would be in suspended animation until the summer and he had no idea how long that would last.

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**2 month**

**287 AL**

It had been a busy and frantic month as he prepared for the winter that was to come. He was hoping that since this was the south of the North that at least it would be somewhat mild compared to places like Last Hearth or Winterfell. The matters weren't helped by the fact that the days kept getting colder and colder any day now it was probably going to start snowing.

The people of Moat Cailin took to closed hearths eagerly once they were told why they were better than open hearths. It wasn't all that difficult.

Marcus had then loaded several carts with panes of glass and taken half a dozen of his guardsmen with him to the aptly named by the locals 'Mining town'. There really should be a law that says the locals weren't allowed to name anything. There was honestly no creativity around here.

At any rate he had built them a hot house he was hoping was big enough to last the two thousand people here through winter. The mines would thankfully continue to function as they have so far the only issue was going to be transporting the iron ore and coal to Moat Cailin, but Marcus was confident he would come up with something once winter was in full swing.

He was currently in the fishing village on the Bite. Marcus did not know what it was called as he honestly didn't want to know. It was likely to be something idiotic no doubt yet again. He was currently waiting on a shipment of glass panes from Moat Cailin to arrive in order to complete the hot house here. They were nearly done with the construction and simply waiting for the panes to be slotted in. The town itself didn't need the hot houses that much as it had its own small fishing industry to rely on. They could however sell whatever they don't need to nearby villages and even to White Harbor by boat.

He had taken the time to go out fishing on the Bite with a small fishing boat. With any luck the reverse of the event that brought him here and he could go home. Unfortunately he wasn't so lucky. The fishing was however enjoyable and he had managed to haul a decent catch for himself.

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**3 month**

**287 AL **

The little outing to the countryside had done him some good. He had let out some steam and got some work done. It was just the distraction from his ongoing troubles.

Back to the business side of things the construction on the main buildings inside 'Twin Peaks' was finished just a few days before his return. Those building were priorities as soon as Marcus heard that winter was coming. Most importantly the underground storehouses were ready to be used. Thus Marcus had ordered meats to be salted and all of the produce be moved to the storehouse. He was using salt to draw the humidity from the air so that the various vegetables and the few imported fruits didn't spoil as quickly as they would have.

Marcus wanted to do more in the way of preservation techniques, but there was simply not enough time to implement anything worthwhile. He could introduce canned goods, but metals were still too expensive for that to be economically feasible.

Lamenting missed opportunities would do him no good as there was still a lot that needed to be done and winter could come any moment now. There were the day to day affairs of running a not so small fief to consider as well as the dilemma he was having for the last few months of what to do with the now unemployed workers.

He had ordered work on 'Twin Peaks' suspended for the time being and redirected to workers to construct a pair of smaller apartment complexes. Marcus was hopeful that with over a thousand workers the work would be completed in time before winter. These two buildings while shorter where to be two stores higher than their larger brethren. Making the buildings six stores high and the tallest to date. They were however being built with the ability to house no more than four hundred people each. The benefit was that they slightly bigger and a little bit more luxurious and therefore more expensive. Each apartment had its indoor toilet as well as windows installed from the beginning and a closed hearth that was separate from the fireplace. The central heating was being built far more smoothly then the last few time as well.

The whole project about the improved tenement was not however his main focus at the moment. He had finally ordered work on the canal to seize as he had finally figured what to do with at least most of the workers.

A thousand of the workers would be trained by Finnegan and would bolster Marcus's forces bringing them to an even two thousand men. The strain that would put on his finances was for the moment not in consideration. The rest he had set to the task of constructing a building to house his next project. What would be housed within would be the main project for the winter that would hopefully employ most of the workers. The building itself while massive would be built out of wood as it need only last until the end of winter. Marcus was looking forward to building the massive building as it would be more than two hundred meters in length, a hundred wide and fifty high.

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**4 month**

**287 AL**

It had been the middle of the month when winter had officially began in full swing. Fortunately all the construction had concluded just in time. To be fair winter had officially began at the start of last month but that was far to the north and no concern of his.

Marcus could already see smoke rising from chimneys all over Moat Cailin as the central heating system was put to good use by the inhabitants. By the use so far he could determine that he had miscalculated the draw that would be put on his coal stockpile. At the present size of the won it wasn't anywhere near as bad as he had thought at first. Then again he has had four years to stockpile the precious resources and he had only begun to use it when the steel mill became operational. He likely had more than enough to last him a winter that lasted anywhere between two to five years. Marcus would however feel a lot more comfortable once he had figured a while to transport goods even in winter.

So far the time indoors had been boring and he was looking into projects that he could undertake during winter. Apart from his special project for which goods were being stockpiled at the verry moment. There wasn't much he could do during winter.

The winter even this far south wasn't that bad after all he thought that the region would turn into Siberia during winter for an undetermined amount of time. It was still cold and the snow seemed to be piling on, but it wasn't Siberia. Perhaps much further north that was likely the case, but he was as far south as you could get and still be in the North. Aside from the Neck of course.

Marcus thought to review his military as that was one thing he could do even in winter and he had neglected the military aspect quite a lot. Better he did this now then latter when he had a much bigger force.

His force for the moment was quite the mismatched affair. There was practically everything a medieval army employed from weapons to armor. He had set his mind to changing that.

He was of a mind for a light, but a well armored and equipped force. He had ordered all the heavy sets and pieces melted to be employed in the new standard scheme.

Marcus was thinking that it would be hauberk over boiled leather armor as the base of the new armor and was currently debating what to employ over this ensemble that would be light enough and yet still provide sufficient protection to the average soldier. He had finally decided on 'lorica segmentata' or segmented plates. It was what the Romans used in there legions and it was damn effective. No one could question that as the Roman Empire conquered pretty much the known world, or at least the part of the world they knew about and could easily reach.

For armament he had decided on a pike as the main weapon of choice accompanying that would be a gladius and a small tower shield. At least until he could bring something new to the table. He was going to have to look into that as well as it might be a good project to spend his time on.

Captain Finnegan was downright murderous at first, but Marcus had sat him down and explained the need to standardize military equipment and that it actually improved his current force as a whole. It took numerous tries, but he had managed to finally convince the man that it was necessary in order to increase overall efficiency. Marcus had also tasked the captain with improving the discipline of his forces and that there would be review at a later date.

This venture as a whole has so far been like pulling teeth, except in one case. Marcus had gathered the blacksmiths of the town and ordered three thousand gladius's and three thousand 'lorica segmentata'. This led to the blacksmiths being positively gleeful. Even more so when told that both would be made from steel. They were less gleeful when told that he would be supplying the steel and that the price would be reduced to compensate. This dimmed their mood a little, but apparently not enough as they had departed with a little more spring in their step. This was all likely to take months to outfit the whole force. There were also a thousand spares to be kept in reserve.

When captain Finnegan heard how much new equipment he would be getting soon, almost turned his frown upside down. Especially when he heard that it would all be steel.

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**6 month**

**287 AL**

It has been two months since winter came to Moat Cailin and the town is completely snowed over. Marcus had ordered the streets cleaned and salted in order to get rid of the ice underneath all the snow. Using snow was after all a technique used in his old world even in modern times.

Fortunately for the town the Fever River showed no sign of freezing and trade had continued to Marcus's satisfaction. Ever since that first vessel from Barrowton trade has been picking up slowly and has dwindle slightly since the winter.

Fire water has been a smash hit with the north thus far and there was even a trickle going south. It has thus far been very profitable. He had debated whether to keep production as is or to draw it down somewhat. After all winter was likely to be the season where it would truly be in demand, but as the storehouse was almost full and it ate up food that could be going into people's belly's he had decided to significantly slow down production. It would still be in production, but not at the previous levels.

The real money makers as he had predicted were the steel mill and his small glass workshop. Every time a ship made port all the stored panes of glass were instantly sold out. The cheap steel also received significant patronage, but considering that there were no significant threats to the west as of this moment. The amounts of steel sold were nothing impressive. That was likely to change when war broke out however. For now there was peace and if he remembered correctly it would last for quite some time. There was nothing to worry about and he could take his time with the modernization of the forces under his command.

He was considering expanding the glass workshop as the demand was turning out to be outstripping the supply. He would have to enquire whether the glassmaker knew someone trustworthy enough, or several someone, if he could manage that. After all the glassmaker has been teaching himself how to make vases and other glassware ever since Marcus's stint in the workshop in producing a birthday gift for little Sansa. The expansion itself would have to wait until summer as it would be problematic under the current weather conditions to improve the workshop. He could do it, but it would be slow costly and likely to risk the lives of the ones involved.

Speaking of his efforts into glass making a letter had arrived from Winterfell during his tour of the country side. Unfortunately maester Daeron had forgotten all about it, being too engrossed with his own projects and then receiving the missive about winter in order to bring it to Marcus's attention.

Anyhow the letter didn't require a reply fortunately. Marcus had given a stern talking to maester Daeron all the same. It wouldn't do for this event to repeat itself. Who knows next time the letter might require an actual reply and what might happen if he didn't respond is anyone's guess. The letter itself thanked him for the gift and was quite formal in that regard. The usual things one might say in response to a gift. He imagined Lord Stark got quite a few of those. The second part of the letter went on to detail events in the Riverlands. Fairmarket had actually built two ferry's one on the Blue Fork and one on the Green Fork. That came as a surprise to Marcus, but a welcome one. He was unlikely to feel the effects until summer, but was gladdened by the news all the same. The second crossing on the Green Fork east of Seagard was completed without problems as well, but seems to have come under attack by 'bandits' on several occasions. Fortunately they were driven off with no harm done to the boats themselves.

House Mallister had a passionate distaste for the Frey's as far as Marcus was aware. This recent round of 'bandits' was likely to make the matter worse, if it continued and it likely would. If not handled correctly the mater could escalate as neither house held much love for the other and were just looking for an excuse to cut to other down.

The matter at the moment didn't concern Marcus all that much as it was as northerners like to say a problem of the south and it was in the south therefore a northerner had no business sticking their nose in it.

Marcus was spending his days far more productively as he was trying to come up with an effective range weapon for his forces. He had of course immediately thought of producing muskets for his forces, but not only did that reduce the need for his current rearmament scheme and needing to rethink the issue altogether. He has after all spent more than ten thousand gold dragons on the new equipment. However that wasn't the real reason why he ruled out the musket. He could produce it even if it would require a specialized workshop that would require a considerable number of people in order to produce sufficient numbers in a reasonable amount of time and then there was the issue of ammunition. He simply didn't have the economy at this time to support the infrastructure that would be required in his estimation. Then there was the fact that the next war was more than a decade into the future as far as he knew and something told him that, if he introduced firearms now the odds of someone else being smart enough to see their value and implementing them into their own forces was more than high. Marcus could go so far to say that it was a certainty. It would be best to bide his time and first teach his men the associated tactics in order to make the transition more seamless.

Therefore he had decided to spend his time indoors trying to produce a repeating crossbow that was both easy to produce, handle and was relatively cheap. He was hoping to at least manage at least two, but given enough time Marcus was certain he could pull off all three. It was challenging as he knew a lot more about muskets than crossbow, but then again they weren't overly complex. He was enjoying the time tinkering and there was little to do other then supervising his special project, but that itself hasn't yet reached a point where it would require his direct involvement. There was little doubt in Marcus's mind that when the point came he would need to spend most of his time on that as it would be delicate work.

On a unrelated topic he had figured out how to transport goods even during winter. The solution was actually extremely simple. So simple in fact that he was wondering why no one had thought of that before now. Sleighs are after all something that he thought that people that suffered winters that lasted years would already have in use. Marcus thought that it probably had something to do with the fact that most if not all northern lordships were fairly self-sufficient at least for the basics, that they didn't really need them and considering the distances involved there wasn't much traffic to begin with and no road save the King's Road. The North was after all more than two thirds of Europe in width at close to one thousand four hundred and fifty kilometers. It was basically huge. Marcus was hoping to get more traffic going with the road network and canal. While he was less certain about the road network being that great an improvement than what he told Lord Stark, it was still likely improve matters. The canal would be a game changer however as even if there wasn't a big improvement in the North and he doubted that the south would likely take full advantage of it.

The sleighs were helping and they were even easier to build the normal carts. Seeing as they had a lot less moving parts. They have improved the situation thus far as traffic between Moat Cailin and the two towns he had improved with hot houses. The mining town was doing fine and were able to feed the population with no problem so far. The problem came from the fact that people from further north outside his own territory were hearing that there was food a plenty in his own territory and were making the perilous trip to either the mining town in the hills or the fishing village on the Bite. A smaller number still were making their way into Moat Cailin. He was fine with the last, but was becoming slightly concerned over the mining town. While he wasn't going to start turning people away. He might need to send people to construct a new hot house up there. Alternatively he could ferry the refugees for that is what they truly were from his own pocket and into Moat Cailin. The situation was likely to get worse as winter continued and people began hearing of how cozy it was down at Moat Cailin with the central heating providing warmth for the average person and not just rich people or nobles.

There was another bit of good news now that the school was up and running there were some people that were using its services. Apparently Marcus going around the factories and telling the workers that they could achieve something that was previously unheard of in Westeros might have spurred them into deciding it might be worth a shot. What it gave them was something simple hope and upwards mobility. Previously if a man was born a mason he was likely to die a mason. This was also the way with pretty much all other professions and callings. The obvious exception being Marcus himself, but no one needed to know that. Most of the older people were waiting to see where the catch is so to speak, but some of the younger workers were going to the school in order to learn what it could teach. It was also a perfect opportunity as there wasn't much to do during winter for most. The fact that the building was well heated was merely an added benefit.

Granted he had to wait and see what the benefit would be as the teachers themselves had only recently graduated themselves, but they would soon be able to turn out some people that were half decent at the required tasks.

Who knew, if this went well maybe in a few years he could construct a library. A more educated workforce would greatly simplify ruling, but unfortunately would create paperwork soon enough. Speaking of that dreaded demon. He was pushing the project of introducing cheap paper and the printing press yet again. He really had to get around to inventing those and the sooner the better. Maybe next year if time permitted. Right now he had plenty of other projects to occupy his time that were no less important.


	8. Chapter 8

**7 month**

**287 AL**

Marcus was in his study yet again. The 'study' was more of a indoor workshop that Marcus used to thinker that was connected to his suite inside one of the main buildings of the new castle. He was spending his days during the winter dividing his time between the crossbow project and his very special project. At the moment he couldn't really tell which one was more troublesome.

What was supposed to be a simple few days to a few weeks of tinkering in regards to the repeating crossbow was proving to be more elusive then he thought? Getting a working repeating crossbow like those of ancient China was indeed easy and extremely cheap. It only took him a day to figure it out and build one. The problem was that it only worked half the time, if that and was effective only against very lightly armored or un-armored opponents as testing has show. Marcus was confident that he could solve the issues involved, but it would take time. Fortunately during the winter there was only his special project that needed supervision.

As he thought on how to improve the design without turning the weapon into a miniature artillery piece. Not that it didn't give him ideas for actual artillery, but that was another matter for the future. Right now there was a knock on the door to his workshop. Marcus could already guess who it was. Maester Daeron has been hounding him as of late to be a more traditional lord. Not that the ever polite maester phrased it like that, but the message was clear.

"Enter!" Marcus bellowed with a steady voice and yet mildly annoyed at the interruption.

As the door opens to admit maester Daeron followed, by captain Finnegan. The maesters presence was of no surprise to Marcus, however the captains presence was.

Both men bowed as they entered and with a quick "M'lord" proceeded further into the workshop.

"Pardon the interruption m'lord, but we would appreciate a moment of your time, if at all possible." Began the maester diplomatically.

"I could use a break anyway. What is this about anyway?" Marcus asked even though he could already guess the topic of the conversation.

"M'lord we mean no disrespect, but we are a little concerned about..." As the maester was looking for words to put it more diplomatically in a way he hasn't done in the last ten times they have had this conversation.

The good captain took over with characteristic northern bluntness "What the maester is fumbling about in trying to ask is whether you plan on taking a wife any time soon?"

Rubbing the bridge of his nose for a minute to try and alleviate the headache that was coming "I have had this conversation with each of you individually at least a dozen times. What exactly seems to be the issue and enough avoiding the subject? I grow tired of having this conversation again and again."

"The people of Moat Cailin and the troops besides are getting a little skittish. At first this place was barely a hole in the middle of nowhere, but as time passed it has become less of a temporary camp and more a real home to many. You know me m'lord I'm not usually one to give long winded speeches, but this time I figured an exception was needed. At first I thought that this here would be a keep like any other it made no difference to me really, but it grew and grew into a proper town in a few short years of your reign and I have no doubt that it would keep growing more and more as time passes. This next part the maester likely hasn't told you about as he is a southern lad through and trough, thus not likely to know much about. Me, I was born in the north and gods be good I'll die in it too. I can tell you as a fact that people up here in the North have never had it this good before. Here they have plenty to eat and warmth besides. Coin is plentiful and there is work for all who wish it. Simply put we are all afraid to one point or another of what might happen, if you are to die with no successor m'lord." Captain Finnegan gave an passionate speech and the maester was nodding at the appropriate times in agreement.

For his part Marcus sat there and listened patiently to the impromptu speech and for the first time in such a discussion paid close attention. He hadn't before considered it like that or tried to for that matter see it from a different point of view. He knew that he was making changes that would improve the standard of living tremendously, but to him until now it were all numbers and statistics. He hadn't stopped to consider that there were actual people involved. Marcus was immersed into his projects to such a degree trying to forget that reality of his situation that he had forgotten to step back and smell the roses as it were. If he was to be truthful angling for a better match was part of why he was delaying as much as possible, but another deeper part of him simply rebelled against the idea of an arranged marriage to one of the locals? 'Locals' he still called the westerosi. It has been years since first he got to westeros and yet he couldn't help, but separate himself from them.

Marcus broke his unhealthy musings and spoke honestly to the captain looking him in the eyes "I didn't know you felt so strongly on the matter. You should have come to me like this sooner instead of trying skirt around the issue, if you felt it so important."

"I apologize m'lord, but I thought it not my place to interfere." Finnegan replied solemnly

"I will give the matter more consideration and pursue it more actively once the winter is over, however there is little I can do now with all this snow covering the place." Marcus said honestly to both men across from him.

Maester Daeron had finally found his voice as he said "In that case I'll leave these letters for your consideration m'lord. They are some more marriage proposals for you to consider."

Marcus smirks at this and replies "You sneaky bugger. Well played. Now is there anything else that needs my attention or was that it?"

"There is one thing that I wanted to bring to your attention my lord. This new subject you want me to teach to teachers of the new school..." Maester Daeron began addressing Marcus, but was interrupted.

"What about it? If there is something unclear I'm sure I could write a more simple to understand and detailed text on the subject."

"It is not that my lord. I understand the text just fine and am confident that the new teachers could easily be thought. It is just that... I'm doubtful as to whether there is need for such a measure." The maester explained somewhat hesitantly.

Marcus frowned at that and answered tiredly "I would very much like to not have to fight you on this maester. I know that this takes time away from your studies and various duties, but I consider the matter of health to be important and that it would help my people immensely in the long run. Therefore I will broker no argument on the subject and with this I would like to consider the matter closed."

As of late as the young maester has been delving deeper into his studies especially with all the new things that Marcus has shown him. This has made the maester far less willing to assist with the more esoteric subject such as the school. He believed the endeavor to be a waste of time and effort. Effort he believed would be better spent more productively. Marcus disagreed and while it was only his opinion on the matter that mattered the maester tended to make a nuisance of himself.

"As you wish my lord I will of course follow your wisdom on the matter." His piece said the maester leaves Marcus alone with the captain of the guard.

"That man is very frustrating sometimes Finnegan. Was there something that you needed Captain?" Marcus questions the captain and eases into the chair now that there would be no more redundant discussions.

"As a matter of fact aye m'lord. Just wanted to bring you up to speed on the latest regarding the troops."

"Have a seat as this is likely to take a while." Marcus said and beckoned the captain to sit. He was considering introducing some inexpensive reforms to his small army, but considering the number of current projects he had on his plate decided against it. Introducing a new ranking system would be rather easy, if the captain didn't fight him on it, but alas he was doubtful that would be the case. Even though the man was starting to trust his ideas he was nevertheless resistant to change. Marcus was hoping that his attitude would change overtime as his army would be going through quite a few changes in the coming decade. There was little doubt of that.

The two men spent the next several hours discussing the troops as a whole and their performance with what little of the new equipment they had on hand.

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After a few more days of frustration with the repeating crossbow he had decided to take a break and focus on his special project. At this point he was thoroughly familiar with crossbows and their operation. Marcus was certain that he was close to figuring out how produce one that had good penetration and was easy to operate. At this point however the best he could do would be a repeating scorpion and while he thought it was a good idea. He was going to have to hold off as he might change his mind in a few months when winter has ended. At least he hoped it would only last a few more months.

He was currently considering going to the new school in order to see how things were going, but decided against that as it would not only disrupt the proceedings and as he was covered in sooth from a hard day's work decided against it.

It had taken three months, but his special project finally took off. There was finally enough of the needed raw materials and the required tools to begin construction. As well as a small foundry at the back of the huge building to assist in construction.

His special project and pet peeve was namely a steam ship. At first he had wanted to build something grand like the Titanic was back in its day, but due to the realities of the time he had quickly become aware that even, if he eventually managed that gargantuan feat. It was more than likely that it ended like the Titanic and sinking off of some coast somewhere. No considering how costly the endeavor was likely to be it was better to play it safe. He had run the numbers twice and while the project was going to be highly expensive it wasn't going to deplete his funds. Granted he couldn't as of yet afford a project of such scale to fail, but even though it would require extravagant expenditure the recent resurgence in navel trade and the fact that the Fever River didn't freeze over means that he would still be secure. It would largely be the end of his grand projects for some time however until he filled his own coffers somewhat.

The ship itself at least on paper was going to have frame timbers of what Marcus thought was oak. At least it resembled oak to a great enough extent to serve the purpose. Anyway he was using white and live oak fastened and braced with iron fifteen centimeters wide and three centimeters thick, crossing each other diagonally every meter and a half. The inner planking was also going to be double-strapped and outside the iron strapping was going to be double planking of pine. The whole was going to be thoroughly braced and bolted together with nails and bolts of iron and steel.

He was having difficulty with the bolts at the moment, but as soon as the cast-iron cast was ready he could begin to produce them in bulk. It was a minor issue with an easy fix. The less easy to fix was what to replace the copper brace with. Since copper was used as currency this meant that the option of copper bracing the hull was out. That was however needed in order to insure the longevity of the ship as wooden hulls suffered quite a lot of wear and tear issues due to salt water and seaweed. It tended to eat away the hull thus dramatically reducing to longevity of the ship itself. It was a far of issue as there was quite some time before that needed to be handled. Possibly at least a year.

The ship itself when finished is going to have three masts of square rigged sails and to supplement the ship as well as for emergency. The main motive force was going to be the two fifteen meters in diameter paddle wheels on either side of the ship. Marcus had decided to use a vertical triple expansion steam engine. It was quite ambitious a project and probably the most difficult part to build of the entire ship, but Marcus welcomed the challenge. The main difficulty was that he was working with an uneducated workforce and lacked certain tools that would have made construction much simpler.

To the point a 'Vertical' engine refers to the orientation of the engine itself. While triple expansion engine meant that it use three stages that used a series of double-acting cylinders of progressively increasing diameter and/or strokes and hence volume. These cylinders are designed the work into three equal portions, one for each expansion stage. This all made the engine extremely efficient, meaning that it would not waste coal. It was also the least maintenance intensive engine of all the direct acting engines.

While he was all but certain that he could build the engine even with all the shortcomings given enough time. There was the problem that as the engine was probably the most advanced he could think of it would be seen as near magical by Lords and smallfolk alike. Not to mention that beyond the most basic and rudimentary maintenance no one, but Marcus would be able to repair it. That is why he had decided to leave some sails in case it broke down during a voyage.

At first he wanted to build a ship at least a hundred and twenty meter long and having six or seven decks. The reality of his actual capabilities versus what he would have like to be able to build had quickly killed that ambition however. The ship was now going to be seventy meters in length and sixteen wide not counting the paddle wheels. Instead of six decks it was to have three. Marcus estimated that, if he figured out how to brace the hull with something other than copper then the ship would weight somewhere between a thousand and two thousand gross tons. Granted this was only an early estimate, but given that a large part of that weight came from the engine and the bracing he was all but certain that it wouldn't be less than a thousand tons.

The entire construction would take years and even factoring the all but certain blunders of the construction crew. Marcus was estimating that it would be ready some time during the year two hundred and ninety after landing as the calendar went. It could be sooner, but then again his own accounting factored in a lot of blunders. There was a small hope however that it could be shortened by the time the winter ended. Winter was another factor that made construction difficult, but it wasn't impossible as all of the work was done indoors and was somewhat heated by the furnace used, but not by much.

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At end of the month just as Marcus was having his midday meal the maester entered the dining hall. Instantly Marcus's thought of what possible perceived grievance the man might have that he thought would require his attention. The man had become akin to a petulant child during the last month over the new health program Marcus was starting in the school. The maester thought himself far too busy and important in order to handle the matter and Marcus was reaching a turning point.

Fortunately this was not one of those times as the maester announced that a Ser Davos Seaworth and company were here to see him. This instantly lifted Marcus's spirit as he rather like the man and had shamefully forgotten that he himself had written the man with a request.

„Well what are you waiting for send them in!" Marcus responds jovially.

"As you wish my lord." The maester says and quickly leaves to carry out the command.

Several minutes later Ser Davos Seaworth plus company enter the hall. The company being a tall Caucasian male with sandy hair and thick beard, plus a kid that looks suspiciously like Davos, if you squint just right.

"Come Ser Davos and company! Sit! Sit!" Marcus beckons the small party.

As they take seats at the table servants come forward and serve them their meals.

"So old sea dog what brings you to my humble abode?" Marcus questions.

"As your lordship remembers I received a letter requesting that I find a suitable captain for his lordship." Davos says as always straining to maintain protocol.

"I also remember sending that letter more than half a year ago. You took your sweet time getting here, but given the weather I suppose it was unavoidable. Also you can cut the pleasantries we are all friends here." Marcus responds with a smirk.

Nodding Davos responds in kind "Apologize m'lord, but finding a suitable candidate took some time and as you said the weather played its part."

"Think nothing of it Davos. Now I take this is the man in question?" Marcus asks.

"That I be m'lord. Enrico Torro is the name and I can sail any ship you would care to name." The now named Enrico Torro boasts. Davos cringes at that, but says nothing.

"Any ship you say? I'm sure we could put that to the test in due time, but first Davos I have to ask is this an acquaintances of yours from your past profession?"Marcus grins evilly and asks in kind.

Davos hesitates at that and Marcus decides to take pity on the man "Rest assured I will not judge him based on past sins and unlike your lord I am aware of the finer points of bad behavior. I will however require the truth and nothing, but the truth."

At this both man smile and a look of relief flashes across their faces and Ser Davos decides to speak up "Aye your lordship he is or rather was a smuggler, but has since chosen to leave the life behind."

"And you would vouch for this man and his skills as a captain and a sailor?" Marcus presses on.

"Aye I would m'lord. He's a fine one, if a little boisterous." Davos answers.

"Now I never! I would have you know that navies from across the free cities curse my name and whores in those very same cities whisper my name on longing." Enrico boasts with mock offence.

At least Marcus thinks it is in jest least it be far to annoying to deal with on a regular basis, but as it stands he simply grins and answers Ser Davos "I see what you mean Davos. There is one issue however. The ship I want you to be the captain of is not yet ready and it will be at least two years before it is. I will however extend you the offer to stay and supervise the construction along with myself. In that time you will be given a stipend to help manage comfortably until it is finished. What say you to this Captain Torro."

Enrico thinks for a few moments and asks a question of his own more seriously this time "If I chose to accept this offer of yours... m'lord. What sort of ship would I be the captain of?"

It takes close to two hour to explain in detail to both men the idea behind his soon to be steamship and amidst this they ask many questions and at the end both men resemble fish out of water as they try to comprehend all they have heard.

"Is all this even possible?" asks after some time Ser Davos.

"Oh yes. It is possible, however it is by no means an easy feat mind you, but it is indeed possible." Marcus replies

"Ah... screw it. The greatest captain commanding the greatest ship in all the known world. I'll do it." Enrico says finally.

"Glad to hear it Captain. Say you wouldn't per chance have any experience in building ships would you?" Marcus asks the Captain.

"Some. As a young lad I used to work at the Arsenal of Braavos. It has been quite some time since then though." Captain Torro responds.

"Excellent! That is truly good to hear. I will most likely be making full use of your skills in the future!" Marcus exclaims truly delighted at the news.

"There is one more thing that I would like to discuss with your lordship." Davos says tentatively.

"What might that be?" Marcus asks.

"This here is my youngest Maric. I have already discussed this with Enrico, but I would like your blessing as well." Davos say as he wraps a hand around the boy sitting next to him.

"Well don't keep me in suspense Davos out with it." Marcus says.

"If permissible your lordship I would like for him to be apprenticed under Enrico to one day become his second." Davos finally proposes.

Marcus thinks on the matter for a few moments, but the more he thinks about it the better the idea sounds. After all the boy would be trained on the steamship and would later in life be the perfect captain for such a ship as he would take to its operation much quicker

"I think it splendid idea, if you have already covered the matter with Captain Torro here." Marcus finally responds.

"Thank you your lordship he is hard worker and won't disappoint I promise." Davos responds vehemently.

"I know he won't he is your soon after all. I'm sure he will do you proud Davos. Now that maters have been somewhat been taken care of. I insist that the lot of you stay as my guests the servants will show you the way." Marcus responds seriously.

"Your lordship is too..." Davos begins to protest, but is interrupted.

"The matter is settled Ser Davos. Now if you excuse me I have places to be." With That Marcus stands and makes to exit the hall in a much better mood than he's had all month.

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**8 month**

**287 AL**

At has been over a week since Davos and Captain Torro had arrived. They had spent the time hence settling down and Davos was staying until he made sure that his boy was doing well.

Marcus was currently showing them around the construction grounds for his new prize. He could hear shouts coming from the distance, but pays them no mind as he thinks that it was the usual workplace thing.

Suddenly Captain Torro approaches Marcus and demands incensed "This is madness! Most of these people were masons or construction workers before winter came. There are a few carpenters here and there, but those are honestly the only people here with any useful skills."

"Lower your voice Captain. I can understand where you're coming from and that is way I'll excuse your behavior this once, but just this once." Marcus says icily to the Captain and waits for him to calm down.

The now calm Captain responds "Apologies m'lord, but this is sheer lunacy. Have you any idea how long it will take to build a simple galley like this let alone an amazing ship such as the one you proposed to me earlier this week?"

"Close to two years by my estimates." Marcus responds honestly.

Enrico takes a moment to consider this and responds a bit more under control than before, now that he realizes the full scope of this undertaking "It is still madness… m'lord"

Pinching the bridge of his nose Marcus ponders this "What I need from you on this project Captain is to lesser the burden as it were. I'll have trouble enough as it is with the boiler. When the ship is completed and there are no complications I'll have you go south and collect some people better suited to the tas, but for now this is all we have and would have to make due."

Rubbing the back of his head Enrico responds "Eh I suppose that it would be a challenge, but I'll make due I suppose… m'lord."

"Just don't work them to death I will still need these people when summer comes again." Marcus responds with all due seriousness.

"I'll try m'lord." Enrico responds.

As Marcus leaves the Captain to his work he is met outside by Finnegan.

"Think he'll be up to the task m'lord?" Finnegan questions.

"Let's hope so. I would still need to be involved once engine construction begins, but for now it would give me much needed time to start other projects, that in the long run would help this place prosper." Marcus responds.

"This place is changing daily m'lord and for the better too." Finnegan responds idly.

"Any interesting rumors going around?" Marcus asks as both men walk towards the keep.

Finnegan fidgets for a few seconds, but replies "I wouldn't care to comment on rumors m'lord."

"Humor me anyway." Marcus pushes.

"There are rumors of bandits in your northern territories m'lord." Finnegan responds.

"I trust that you have dispatched a large enough force to deal with any would be bandits that would dare to come south." Marcus responds not really caring much for the particular mater.

"I have m'lord and as per your orders have instructed the men to protect and render aid where needed to any travelers." Finnegan.

"Anything else? There must be more than that." Marcus questions.

"There is one mater..., but it is unconfirmed. There is a whisper that the grievance between the Malisters of Seagard and the Freys of the Twins has escalated m'lord" Finnegan responds shiftily

"That is no news. Those two houses have heated each other for centuries, if what maester Daeron has told me has any weight. Then there is the matter of the 'Bandits' that plagued the new crossing." Marcus responds.

"I know that as well m'lord and mind you it is just a rumor, but it is said that the two houses are in preparation for an open conflict m'lord" Finnegan confesses.

"Now that is news and a good news at that." Marcus says.

"M'lord?" Finnegan questions.

"Nothing Captain at least for now." Marcus says while making a note to send a raven to Seagard and offer Lord Malister a discount on steel as assistance to his weasel problem.

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**9 month**

**287 AL**

Davos left at the end of last month sufficiently satisfied with his son's conditions. Marcus had spent some more time with the man as he honestly found him to be good company and as a well traveled man due to his previous occupation had a lot of firsthand knowledge of Essos that Marcus was very interested in. Marcus had gone so far to suggest to Davos that once the winter ends he could feel free to deliver another shipment of volcanic ash, not at the former price, but was nevertheless assured that there would be enough profit in it for him.

Marcus was glad for the distraction as it gave him much needed time to get his own thoughts in order. Now it was time to once again get back to work and there was plenty for him to do even in winter it would seem.

He had one major issue that needed addressing. Namely the fact that the end product of a Bessemer converter was low-carbon steel. This was ideal for his various construction projects and could easily be used in weapons forging. It was however not enough for the construction of a steam engine as advanced as the one he had in mind for the ship. The easiest solution was to complicate the processes involved with making steel. He was currently using raw iron ore and coal. It had grater output, but lower quality. At first it wasn't beneficial to make better steel as even that was as good as what everyone had. That is of course not including Valerian steel, but that was a lost art.

It was finally time to 'invent' high quality pig iron. The Westerosi might have something similar, but his product would be no doubt of better quality. After all making coke from coal was unknown and would have to be introduced. Producing coke wasn't particularly difficult, but presented the problem of slowing steel production.

Marcus was fortunate that there was plenty of space inside the steel mill that was previously slated in case of expansion. He had already ordered that place used to set up mass production of pig iron and coke. Hopefully that would rise the quality of the steel enough so that with some reinforcement could be used in the construction of a steam engine.

The whole refurbishment would take a few months to be sure, but wouldn't require his direct involvement. It was after all easy enough to set up with some instruction. With a little luck it wouldn't noticeably slow down production and what steel would be produced before then could be set aside to accommodate his offer to the Mallisters of cheaper steel.

Speaking of offers. He had written some time ago to the Lord of Seagard about how he sympathized with the Mallister plight against the Freys and would be willing to sell them large quantities of steel at a discount. A week later Lord Malister had written him asking after amounts and prices. Once that was taken care of the next letter simply said to expect five ships sometime this month. Hopefully when they arrived something of the current workings of Seagard could be learnt.

In other news Marcus had given up on his crossbow project as too much of a headache that would not only be expensive, but be replaced in a little over half a decade. He had other more productive uses for his valuable time. He was still considering placing a repeating scorpion analog on the bow of his steam ship, but other than that the project was as good as dead.

Marcus had recently converted the four warehouses into a small paper factory. The place was already walled and would require minimal effort to turn operational. There was already plenty of pulp as there was a small wooden industry from even before his arrival and that was growing with time. At its present size it would be more than enough to feed the paper plant. As it was winter there were plenty of people looking for work. The place was just starting production and ramping up the numbers. Pretty soon he would be producing all the paper the small town would need. Not that at the moment it needed much, but that would change with time. He had even set up a small ink works in an abandoned house as the operation was pretty basic for the moment and wouldn't require much space. The ink itself was nothing complicated at the moment and there was unlikely to be much demand as it is.

The more difficult project that he would be starting after this one would be a printing press. That would actually take some time to do right. He was estimating that he would have ten presses by the end of the year. However considering that each piece would require precision and ideally machine work. The later of the two being virtually non-existent would slow down things somewhat. The bigger problem was the fact that it would require an educated workforce. Hopefully by the time it was ready to open there would be enough workers. However the printing presses wouldn't be ready to open doors until summer as it required a dedicated building and there was no construction during the winter

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The ships from Seagard had arrived during the middle of the month. Marcus had wondered why Lord Mallister would be sending five ships as he doubted that the purchase would be that large, but had nevertheless remained hopeful. It turned out that the convoy was comprised of one cog and four galleys. Apparently Lord Malister was a little paranoid about security. What made Marcus nervous was the fact that there were close to five hundred men-at-arms divided among those ships. If it came to a fight he had no doubt that he could take them. But it would be ugly and it would be messy.

Marcus was currently at his dining hall waiting for the captain of the expedition. He was surprised when the maester announced the Captain as Jason Mallister.

"Lord Mallister welcome and have a seat." Marcus offers.

"Your most welcome Lord Lane." Lord Mallister responds.

"I hope the journey wasn't too perilous?" Marcus questions.

"No it wasn't thankfully, but there have been some reports of increased pirate activity as of late." Lord Malister responds.

"That would indeed explain the heavy escort. What it doesn't explain however is why you would come in person and not simply send someone." Marcus says.

"To business then. We at Seagard have been hearing quite the curious rumors and mutterings from merchants returning from the North for the last few years each more fanciful. It was a good time as any to see, if there was any fact to these rumors. That is why my father sent me here to Moat Cailin." Lord Malister answers.

Marcus waits patiently and then asks "So you are not here to buy my steel then?"

"Oh no we would steel like to buy your steel at the offered price. It is just that the quantity of steel you mentioned is a little more than could be easily believed, especially at the price offered." Lord Malister answers.

"I'm happy to hear that we would be doing business regardless. Just to clarify however the price is a onetime discount that I'm offering due to your current issues with the band of 'bandits' that are quite frequently assaulting your new crossing." Marcus says.

Lord Mallister makes a face at the last bit and says "Ah yes those 'bandits'." The way he says it makes his opinion on the matter more than clear. As if he had swallowed something particularly vile.

"I much like yourself I imagine have a heavy suspicion. That it is actually those weasels the Freys that are behind it, but I'm too far and would have to first pass through Lord Reeds territory before I can actually assist in any direct fashion." Marcus responds to the venomous comment.

"Of course it's the bloody Freys who else could it be!" Exclaims Lord Malister. After he calms down a little after his outburst he amends "Forgive me that was uncalled for, but you have to understand that tensions are higher than is usual back home. The Freys and my family have never seen eye to eye, but the recent attacks on the new crossing is taking maters to a new and never before seen level of treachery on behalf of the Freys."

"You don't need to explain. I understand completely I assure you. We have ventured a little off topic as it were. Have you had time to browse the available stocks?" Marcus questions as he tries to get the conversation back on track. He is more than aware of how treacherous the Freys are and whatever the case may be sitting here and acting like a damn chaplain to Lord Mallister wasn't what the meeting is all about.

"I have. Your maester and Captain Finnegan were more than helpful." Lord Mallister says and takes a moment to collect his own thoughts.

Marcus smiles at this. He had the envoy escorted around town around various workshops and factories as to impress upon him the bounty that is within reach. The envoy being Jason Mallister was even better in his mind as it showcased the prosperity of Moat Cailin.

"It is safe to say that you have more steel than we are likely to need in the near future or afford for that matter even at the current prices. Seagard while not poor isn't rich and there is much you could offer us." Lord Mallister continuous.

Thinking on the issue Marcus sees an opportunities not easily passed by "I'm sure that we could work something out Lord Mallister. In what else might you be interested, if you could afford it."

"This firewater of yours seems like good drink to warm a man during this bitter winter and there is the glass panes you have that are a rare sight in these parts of Westeros." Lord Mallister replies.

"I would be willing to offer you a deal as there might be something you have that I have a need of at present. Would such a deal be of interest to you?" Marcus questions diplomatically.

Lord Mallister frowns, but nevertheless looks somewhat eager "It depends on the deal Lord Lane."

"The deal is as follows in exchange for one of your cogs plus its crew for a period of no less than two years. I am willing to offer you ten barrels of firewater and offer a onetime reduction in rates on glass panes. Those that sound acceptable Lord Mallister." Marcus offers hoping that he would bite.

Lord Mallister for his part frowns and thinks deeply on this for a few minutes and then questions "You want one of our cogs plus it's crew and captain to be given to you for a period of no more than two years and in exchange would just gives ten barrels of firewater and decrease the price of glass panes. How big a reduction are we talking about here?"

Marcus grinned he had him just where he wanted him "Significant I assure you. So what do you say?" Lord Mallister had no way of knowing that the reduction in question was in fact the prices he was selling glass panes before it was pointed out to him that he was selling them too cheaply.

"I would say that you have yourself a cog for a period of two years. You should expect it sometime at the beginning of next year at the latest." Lord Mallister responds as he grins widely.

"Splendid! Let's drink to that." Marcus says excited to have not only made what he hoped would be a significant sale, but procured the services of a ship for the period of the next two years.

This would enable Marcus to make more serious profits much sooner and perhaps expand Moat Cailin and its two satellite smaller towns such as the mining town and the fishing town. That however was for the future first a feast to commemorate this fine deal.

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It took no time at all for the negotiations to be finalized and quantities of each stock determined. Another week for all the purchases to be loaded aboard the Mallister cog set sail for home.

For his part Marcus had made quite the modest sum of gold even with the discounts he had offered. The amounts weren't quite what he had hoped for, but he was still happy as this was more in total than he had sold at any one time than ever before. At least when it came to steel. The purchase of glass was surprisingly modest. That all meant that he had gotten a cog surprisingly cheap. Even if it was just a loan. He would put it to good use regardless.

He would first need to send a trade delegation to all the major settlements on the northern west coast and inform them that he was offering good price for coal and iron and would take all amounts they are likely to have and more besides. Of course when those ships came they would hopefully buy goods from his town in turn and everyone would be happy at least in theory. So far only Barrowton, Flint's Finger and Torrhen's Square knew of this offer and were slow to respond and they were the largest settlements on the west shore besides. He would still send the ship to stop at even the bigger fishing villages up to and including Bear Island. If by the time the ship left port and still had steel in its hold he would give orders to gift the remainder to the men of the nights watch before having the ship return to Moat Cailin. That journey would take anywhere between six months to a year. That would be good portion of the time the ship would be in his service, but it would be worth it in Marcus's eyes as it would foster some good will with the inhabitants of the North.

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**3 month **

**288 AL**

It had been eventful seven months for Marcus he had in his not so modest opinion accomplished much in that time. The only downside was that these long winters were starting to get to him, fortunately according to the Citadel in Oldtown according to maester Daeron maesters were claiming that it would soon end. How soon was soon was anyone's guess however. The only downside to the winter ending and it had taken him awhile to find something was that he no longer would be eating fresh fish. Fresh being relative as it took a week for the fish to get to Moat Cailin from the fishing town on the Bite.

In the past few months all three towns had grown exponentially. It had gotten to the point where he once again needed to worry about housing as the town was becoming overcrowded and it was showing. It was more than likely that the town was above twenty thousand inhabitants as a warm bed and plenty of food seemed to have drawn a lot of people to his territories. So much so that he was glad to have build enough hot houses to accommodate a much larger population then what he had at the beginning of winter. It was likely going to be a busy few years for Marcus once all the snow melted.

The same could be said about the other two smaller towns in his territories. Both had nearly doubled in size during the winter. This was fortunate for Marcus as it meant that the output of the mines has increased as well. He would pretty soon have to consider fortifying both locations and placing a permanent garrison at each.

Speaking of troops. He had made some significant changes there. Marcus had introduced the ranking system and separated troops based on officers and everyone else. It was still a work in progress however he was more surprised that Captain Finnegan had agreed without much fuss once the workings of the system were explained to him. For that he had rewarded the man by promoting him to Major and told him to increase the size of the force to five thousand as soon as he was able. Finnegan had a sour expression on his face knowing the monumental task that was ahead of him. One change the now promoted Major had welcomed whole heartedly was the fact that officers could customize their armor, but on their own dime. For everyone else the armor was to be standard.

In more economically minded news the ship Lord Mallister had promised had arrived on time and Marcus had wasted none of the valuable time that he had use of the ship. He had quickly loaded it with glass, steel and firewater. He had also commanded that the ship have fifty men-at-arms for protection as well as to keep the crew honest and sent it northbound on the pre planned voyage. The Captain of the ship in question was telling him that the journey would take nine months and Enrico was telling him that it would take eleven. He didn't know who to trust on the issue, but either way it would take considerable time make the journey and return. Fortunately he would still have use of the ship for another year, even if this trip wasn't all that profitable he would still have time for one big score before the lease was up.

Marcus had also managed two build ten printing presses, but as there was no suitable location to put them at the moment he had settled for just storing them at a safe place in the keep. He already had to booklets ready for printing to the general public. Both were general health guides that he had written and would be printing as soon as possible. All that was left was to figure out how to best distribute them.

Speaking off learning. The school was doing quite well. Unexpectedly so. He had already managed to fill all the middle management positions in all his business's and then some. It was more than likely that soon he would have enough basically educated people to start a basic bureaucracy as much as he dreaded one. It would be useful or so he hoped.

More pressingly Captain Torro had managed in the last few months to speed up the construction of the ship somewhat to the point where Marcus's involvement was mandatory. He was to begin construction on the steam engine. As the time to begin crept onwards Marcus slowly began to comprehend the scope of the goal he had set for himself. He was close to panicking on that topic. One thing he had going for him on the subject was that he had managed to improve the quality of steel somewhat. It was still far below what would truly be needed and would still require reinforcement, but hopefully not to the point where the ship would be too heavy as to dismiss the advantage of the paddlewheels altogether. As long as the ship was faster than any Westerosi ship he would call it a win. Even if it was faster by a small margin.

Marcus had no choice, but building the thing now even, if doubt had slowly began to creep into his mind. He had sunk far too much into the project already to quit now. Fortunately there weren't any other projects or events that required his attention for the foreseeable future as the construction would require the amount of effort on his part that he hadn't put into a project since he came to be a Lord of Moat Cailin.

It was just now that he realized how difficult this project would be with the resources at hand. Marcus was nevertheless determined to make it work even, if it was only for a little while. In the end he was sure that it would work he just wasn't sure for how long. Especially given the fact that no one on this world had even a glimmer of understanding of how to operate it and even less how it worked.


	9. Chapter 9

**5 month**

**288 After Landing**

It had been over two months since Marcus began work on the steam engine. The work was slowly progressing ever so slowly. The need to reinforce various bits and pieces. Thankfully he had enough people that had rudimentary experience due to the steel mill. This allowed him to focus mostly on the engine itself and not having t worry about various minor bits. That is not to say he didn't need to look over the shoulders of the workers performing the tasks. It just meant that the workers could generally be trusted with the minor things.

The entire affair left Marcus utterly exhausted after only two months and it showed. He was currently enjoying supper in the dining hall when the now promoted major Finnegan entered. Looking every bit as tired as Marcus felt, but perhaps bearing it a little better.

"Major come sit." Marcus gestures to Finnegan haphazardly.

"Thank you m'lord." Finnegan says and takes a seat at the table. Once seated he says "There is something I have been meaning to talk to you about m'lord, but you have been very busy as of late on the new ship."

"What would that be Major?" Marcus questions.

"It is regarding the new recruitment plan you had before you began to personally oversee the work on the ship." Finnegan answers.

"Ah! About that. I have been meaning to talk to you about that as well. It was meant more as a general outline. I know we don't have the arms to equip that many people at present, but I would like you to slowly start somewhere. We are not pressed for time. It was intended to give you the authority to slowly increase the numbers over time without having to come to me for permission every few months." Marcus explains to the Major and as he finishes could see that the relief in the Major's expression was evident.

"That is good to hear m'lord." Finnegan confesses.

"One other thing Major you are to prioritize two things at the moment. How you achieve that is up to you for the moment. Those being the new ranking system and discipline." Marcus adds.

"The men are responding well to the change even, if some are confused. As to discipline I drill the men quite regularly m'lord." Finnegan responds almost affronted.

Nodding Marcus continuous "I will be inspecting the troops myself sometime in the future after the blasted ship has been completed."

"The troops will be ready m'lord." Finnegan say almost obligatorily. After a moment however he asks "Speaking of the ship m'lord how is work progressing?"

"Slowly, but that was to be expected. Should be finished with the engine in two to three months." Marcus answers.

"The ship would be completed by the beginning of summer then m'lord?" Finnegan pushes on.

"Hopefully yes, but it won't be until the end of next year that it would be ready for a voyage I think. Why the sudden interest Major?" wonders Marcus

"I'm merely somewhat concerned about your health m'lord. You have been pushing yourself more so than usual ever since you began assisting with the construction." Finnegan answers honestly.

"I'm fine Major." Marcus answers.

"Perhaps a short vacation might be in order." Finnegan suggests.

"I'll take one once the engine is finished and not before." Marcus waved off the suggestion easily.

"I'm merely concerned m'lord." Finnegan defends himself.

"You're starting to sound like a mother hen Finnegan. That is what I have Daeron for. Speaking f the maester what has he been up to? He hasn't been pestering me for more than a month now." Marcus says.

Grinning slightly at that Finnegan responds "He has all, but locked himself in his tower ever since the talking to you gave him m'lord." pausing for a moment he continuous "About time too, if you ask me m'lord."

"Yes well! There is only so much of his petulant behavior I could stomach. The recent pressures have been the last straw as it were." Marcus explained.

"No need to explain to me m'lord." Finnegan say between chuckles.

"Yes well, if you would excuse me Major I best be off. I have another day engine construction to look forward to." Marcus says proceeds out of the chamber.

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Marcus's month passed much in the same vain with a lot of sweat and effort being expanded on his part in order to get the steam engine operational.

In spite of all that life in Moat Cailin carried on. More and more work kept piling on for the Lord of Moat Cailin.

The one recent benefit was that for the most part winter in the southern reaches of Westeros has ended. There were still areas like the Vale and the Riverlands that felt winters sting, but for the most part it was by and large over. In perhaps a few moths so too would the winter end in the North perhaps.

This meant now that winter has ended there was an overflow of southern ships making port at Moat Cailin. So much so that the port area needed expanding in order to handle the new influx of much needed ships.

Soon those issues would need addressing, but not before the ship was complete. Another month perhaps before the engine was finished. There would still need to be work done on the ship itself before it was ready to be put into water. However the biggest of the tasks on the ship that needed finishing was the armored iron prow.

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**7 month**

**288 AL**

It was finally finished his greatest creation to date. It took a gargantuan amount of effort. Effort that he was unlikely to replicate any time soon. Not without much more in the way of infrastructure to support the venture.

He was looking forward to taking a nice long vacation until the beginning of summer. Those plans were of course dashed as soon as the now mollified maester told him how much work there was to be done. There might not have been any paperwork as of yet, but that didn't mean that work that needed to be done hasn't been done.

The truth of the matter was that the engine had taken too much of his time and with what little he had in terms of support infrastructure was swamped. He would need to address that soon. Now that he had paper production going he could afford to build and actual support structure. He had all the perquisites needed. It might deplete his pool of educated workers somewhat, but it would likely have the benefit of inspiring others to seek an education.

The fact that he was beginning to link the idea of future prospects with education was likely helping in that regard. At least he hoped it was.

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**9 month**

**288 AL**

It had taken quite some time and effort to reaffirm the fledgling bureaucracy. It would take more time still to make his own small council to assist him in the running of the town and surrounding territories. There was however little he could do to expedite the mater unless he wanted incompetent advisors. That was a great fear at the moment.

So far he had to seats filled. Major Finnegan would do well as his military advisor. The man was loyal even, if he had a lot to learn. He would learn with time. After all you could teach a lot of things, but loyalty wasn't one of them.

Captain Torro would be his naval advisor as he would soon need one. However there were some concerns regarding this option as the man was unproven and his loyalty to anything or anyone, but himself was dubious at the moment. He was a nice enough guy and very competent to be sure or so it seemed. However as much as his former occupation was a benefit was also not. As it meant that for the moment the man would still need to prove himself. He also had the benefit of the doubt simply because Davos vouched for the man.

He still needed a trade, a financial and a administration advisors. Marcus would most likely be filling the financial post himself for quite some time as he didn't trust anyone but himself with his own money. That left trade and administration. He would have to wait some more time for a trade advisor as there simply wasn't anyone competent he could give the post to at the moment.

Administration would be a little easier, but it would still take some time.

This was only the preliminary count at the moment of course. There could be other position to open up, but for the moment these were simply the once within easy reach. He would need to pay attention for a capable master of whispers as the idiom was for head spy.

That however would be a difficult proposition as anyone he was likely to find would more than likely be in someone else's pocket and from there the game would thicken. Even Varys was in it for himself and not for whoever sat on the Iron Throne.

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The day had finally come when the ship would be put into water. The eccentric Captain has proven more than capable as this launch was far sooner than Marcus himself would have managed.

After so many hours spent slaving on the damn engine and the countless checks and reinforcements he had to do in various places. He was quite eager to see the ship hit water. Hopefully it stayed on the water and not under it. Of course it was a delicate affair and it would have to be done carefully least the ship was damaged before it even hit water.

Once the cog had returned from its northern voyage he would have it assist the Captain Torro in training the future crew.

Marcus was walking along with Major Finnegan, maester Daeron and a small party of guards towards the large hanger where the construction took place when suddenly a loud splashing sound is heard. Immediately Marcus feared the worst. Namely that some catastrophe had befallen his beloved ship.

He began running soon after towards the sound and the rest of the party save the maester followed on his heels.

The sight that greeted them nearly gave him a heart attack at the tender age of twenty. Apparently Captain Torro didn't fancy waiting for a grand ceremony of any sort and had launched the ship sooner than expected without even so much as by your leave. What made things worse was that he could see the grinning face of the bravos from the shore.

Other than that the ship seemed to be stable and didn't seem to be sinking to the botom of the canal which was as good a sign as any.

"See m'lord. It works just fine." The bravos bellows from the side of the ship with a smug grin on his face.

"Major find me boats. Now!" Marcus orders. As Finnegan hurries to carry out the order Marcus shouts at the Captain "What the fuck do you think you are doing. You smarmy bravosi fish fucker."

"Ah don't be like that Lord. See it works perfectly. How could it not. It had the great and handsome Enrico Torro building it." Torro defends.

"I'm going to come over there and kick your as all over the deck. You fish borne mongrel." Marcus threatens.

"Again with the fish insults and don't even like fish." Torro says.

"Here m'lord." Finnegan says as he arrives with two boats for the task to ferry the party over.

After a few more insults traded with the Captain. Marcus somewhat calms down as he boards the ship finally.

As the bravos is about to speak Marcus interrupts him while pointing a finger threateningly in his direction "Don't!" as the Captain is again to open his mouth Marcus continuous "Just don't! If I hear one more word come out of your mouth I'm going to separate your head from the rest of your body."

Marcus begins to look around the ship for fractures and any other damage when he tells the Major "Watch him. I'm going down below to check on the engine."

As Marcus begins to move towards the engine room he hears the Major say "With pleasure m'lord."

Lord Lane emerges after some time has passed and he has made sure that the engine is in one piece looking considerably calmer, but no less angry with the Captain "Now you can speak and none of that meaningless shit that usually comes out of your mouth."

Torro ponders this for a moment and later replies "Perhaps I acted a bit rashly m'lord and should have consulted you on the mater, but it isn't now that we should worry about it falling apart it is at sea that matters. If it broke now we could easily fix it. If it breaks at sea we will have only those three sails to rely upon to get us to safe harbor."

Hearing his reasons and finding no fault with them Marcus lets the matter go for now and instead for the first time since he got on board the ship takes a moment to enjoy the monumental accomplishment and take it all in. The ship itself looks amazing to Marcus at eighty meters in length and seventeen wide it looks highly impressive. It could hold tons of cargo and that is not even counting the tons of coal that would be needed to get it from point A to point B and back.

His enjoyment over he turns towards the Captain and says "You are on thin ice Captain you have a lot to learn about operating this ship as it is unlike any ship you have sailed before. I will accept no blunders from here on out. Am I clear?"

"Perfectly m'lord. She is an amazing ship. One of a kind and I look forward to learning it all." Enrico responds.

"Good!" Marcus responds and turns to address Finnegan "We are done here for now!"

With the days excitement concluded Marcus retires to the keep as there is a lot of planning ahead. With the snow finally melting the eastern portion of the canal need digging and the castle needs to be completed along with many other tasks and not a lot of time.

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**10 month**

**288 AL**

The completion of the ship soon to be christened the 'SS ENDEVOUR' things had become more hectic rather than more calm as Marcus had predicted.

The snow was melting and that meant that winter would soon be officially over even in the North.

The workers from the canal were now a little over four thousand and considering that before the beginning of winter they had close to six thousand was a significant setback. He had ordered a thousand to be trained as soldiers and another thousand had moved on to other vocations he imagined or were dead. The work would resume regardless and it was likely that new workers would fill in soon enough.

The workers in the construction company were another thing all together. They were still over a thousand souls strong thankfully, but there were too many projects on hand as it was.

He had sent a hundred workers to resume road construction and another hundred to resume construction on 'Twin Peaks'. This meant that with just a hundred workers it would be some time before the keep was constructed. Even if it was half finished as it is.

It was however unavoidable as there were too many new projects that needed constructing. There was the port extension that had another hundred workers set to the task. When finished it would hopefully be able to handle the higher volume of shipping going through it. There would also be adjacent warehouses and the new cranes to consider. The Cranes would be nothing fancy primarily made of wood and studded with iron. It was to be driven by simple motive force.

He had also tasked further three hundred to begin construction on another ten of the better apartment buildings that incorporated all the amenities and improvements form the start. This work with so few workers would likely take more than a year itself. Plus there was the fact that the sewer network would have to be expanded with each consecutive building and it looked more like two years instead of one.

Another hundred workers would begin the construction on a dedicated school and a orphanage sponsored by Marcus himself. The school wouldn't be overly large with six class rooms and a couple of storage spaces. The catch was the orphanage. For the most part it would be a regular orphanage with one notable exception. All the children would be required to attend. That and the fact that it would be in a building that was a like a miniature apartment complex. It would still have plenty of room and some of the best amenities he could provide.

Next on the list was a dedicated spot for a publishing house. He had after all built the presses last year. It was just now that he would be able to make use of them. It was to be a modest affair a printing floor, plus some storage space and a small apartment above for the publisher. The hundred workers assigned to this project were likely to be done quickest as there really wasn't that much work. After completion they were to be dispersed among the other projects. The same applied to all projects.

Adjacent to the school the last two hundred workers would begin the construction of a large public library. After all he was going to have plenty of books son enough.. It was to be built with an eye towards expansion. As Marcus had plans for the place in the future. It was to be an impressive building regardless and would likely take same time to build. The Library would have a rather large set of stairs leading to the entrance where four roman columns would hold a triangle roof. The front of the steps would be guarded by four large bronze eagles like the ones on his sigil. From the top of the building a large flag would wave in the breeze. At the bottom of the triangle roof under the purple flag his house words would be etched with inlaid gold. It had taken him a while to come up with words he would actually like to aspire to. In the end he had stopped on 'Knowledge is the wing wherewith we fly to heaven'. He was very much in doubt that many would understand the meaning behind those words. There were those that even in his old world hundreds of years later still didn't truly grasp the meaning of the words. Most merely took them at face value, but that always rings hollow.

It would almost be a shame to give this grand complex to maester Daeron. After all the man was singularly unhelpful at times, but he did try at least to wrap his head around the changes in the town. Marcus thought that many of the older maester likely would be much slower to accept new knowledge. He had to sit with the man one of these days and explain to him his place in the future that Marcus was building.

Speaking of the maester he has recently informed him that a pair of archmaester would be coming to see him at soonest opportunity. For all his excitement over the mater Daeron was unable to give a reason for their visit. What he could tell him was that the archmaesters in question were Vaelyn and Ebrose. They were to arrive in the next few months as when the letter was received they were already in route. It was at this point merely a curiosity however one that he was far too busy to pay attention to at the moment.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Marcus was in the dining hall and receiving supplicants as was the norm. It was notable to mention that he had changed the custom to be that supplicants would be received once a week. He was planning to change that to once a month in the near future, but for the moment it wasn't a big problem. If he could he would do away with the practice entirely, but he knew that getting away with that. It would likely put him in hot water with the Starks as it could be seen as him not doing his duties and that was something to be avoided. Especially over such a trivial matter.

He was currently writing a list of easy to achieve ideas for the summer that wouldn't require much effort while waiting for the next person in line to bring him his problems. That being a relative term of course. Marcus was calling it his get rich quick scheme at least in his head.

The idea that currently topped the list was repurposing the hot houses. Instead of growing regular crops as it was now summer and it would still be summer for quite some time in the future. There was simply no need. He would still keep the ones a top the housing complexes, but the larger main hot house would begin to grow cash crops. At least the once more easily attained that he had relatively easy access.

He had dreams about finding coffee in this world, but that was a pipe dream for the moment. Instead he would have to settle for growing fruits instead. Most fruit save for apples in the North was imported from the south. He could grow such things like strawberries and watermelons. If it proved a profitable venture it could even pay for another hot house where he would grow grapes and if he imported the seeds from someplace like Dorne or the Arbor that itself would no doubt net him a fortune.

His scheming was however rudely interrupted be of all things a septon. This surprised Marcus as besides White Harbor there weren't many of those around. As the North didn't follow the Seven gods of the rest of Westeros, but the same gods as the children of the forest.

The Faith of the Seven or simply the Seven reminded Marcus of a polygamous version of Christianity. To be more precise Catholicism. There were some vast differences to be sure. Like the fact that it was a polygamy. There were however just as many similarities and parallels that could be easily drawn between the two.

"And you are?" Marcus questions as he stops writing and scrutinizes the septon.

"Forgive me my Lord. I am septon Baelor my Lord and I come before you to petition you on a most holy mater." The now named septon proclaimed.

"Baelor really...? No matter. What is this holy mater that you bring before me?" Marcus questions internally worried as to what this could be about, but tries to be as nonchalant as possible.

Smiling slightly the septon answers "That is my name indeed my lord. My parents were particularly devout. As to the matter at hand as you have probably no doubt figured out. I am here to officially request that a sept is built in Moat Cailin as to cater to those of the Faith under your umbrage my lord."

"I see." Marcus said trying to stall for a little time. This was a complicated mater. As a northern Lord it simply wouldn't for him to endorse the new gods at this point in time. He was no doubt seen by his counterparts as too much of a southerner as it was. Something like this could prove detrimental.

The septon chose this moment to speak as he was easily able to interpret the silence for the indecision that it was „Your lordship, if I may be so bold many within your lands come from the south and thus follow the Faith. Forgive this servant of the divine for his presumption, but would you really deprive Faithfull of the ability to commune with the divine?"

Marcus contemplates the mater for a few more moments and then gives his final verdict on the mater "I will consent to the building of a sept by the Faith of the Seven and I will even design it and have my best builders construct it, because all faiths are welcome in here, but I will not be paying for it. This is my final decision on the matter."

Clearly this was not the answer that the septon was expecting as he grimaces slightly and asks „ Surely your lordship understands that the Faithfull couldn't afford such a grand expenditure that would be required? Such as the construction of a sept of sufficient size to venerate the gods."

Marcus could tell that the man meant every word of what he said, but couldn't at this time say whether he truly was this devout or merely that good a liar. All the same he answered the man "Your followers may not be, but I'm certain that your church is more than capable to handle such an expenditure."

"Surely your lordship wouldn't expect for the church to finance the construction of ever sept in Westeros. In the past devout lords have usually helped the faith in such matters." The septons counters expecting the argument.

It was a weak argument an in the end Marcus capitalizes on that as he really doesn't want to build grand monuments to a religion that he himself doesn't follow "Need I point out that those self same nobles that have helped you in the past were followers of your religion and I quite simply am not."

Grimacing at this and having no further arguments on the mater decides to take his leave he bows and says "As you wish lordship. By your leave."

Marcus was privately surprised at the outcome, but quite relieved that it was over. He decided to pay the mater no mind as that particular faith had no power in the North and the septon would get no support from house Stark on the mater. If the church of the Seven really wanted a sept built so badly in Moat Cailin they would have to pay for it.

Say what you will about being a lord, but the job seemed to rarely be boring. Even the supposed boring bits had some amusement to be extracted from it.

With that he was back to thinking new get rich quick schemes as trivial complaints were brought to his attention.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**12 month**

**288 AL**

The following months passed busily, but with little excitement to them as Marcus carried out the various tasks associated with being a Lord and oversaw his various projects.

So far most of his projects were going as expected and proceeding without any major complications, if a little slowly for his tastes, but then again there was a lot to do and some of the projects were particularly understaffed. There was some good news however as the new school and orphanage were completed. It turned out that there were a significant number of orphans in Moat Cailin that before now were living on the streets. Soon they would not only have a roof over their heads, but access to enough knowledge to help them find a respectable vocation rather than end up thieving or worse.

In other news the 'SS ENDEVOUR' should finally be receiving its own crew in due time as the cog he had on lease had finally returned from their northbound voyage. They had easily managed to sell any excess food and the glass along with all the woolen cloth that was on board. By the time they had reached Bear Island all that was left in the hold of the ship was the steel. This meant that the ship had to go further up North in order to gift what steel remained to the Night's Watch.

The ship brought back not only a letter of gratitude from the Lord Commander himself, but plenty of wares from further North as well as a heavy purse of coin. Marcus finally had a cushy bear rug he could put in front of the fireplace plus some additional furs of all types and sizes. The rest of the wares were however nothing spectacular as the settlements further north were small and had little to offer. Hopefully now that they knew that he would be taking all iron ore and coal they could offer there would be more trade to be had. There were plenty of known, but unused deposits of both in the North after all.

Currently he was pondering where next to send the cog. He was considering sending it to the Reach, but from Moat Cailin to the Reach on a cog of that size and build the journey both ways was likely to take more than a year. In the end he had settled to send it to the Banefort as to gouge interest of his wares in the Westernlands. The only issue with that plan was that the Banefort was barely a stone throw away from Pyke. He had decided to proceed regardless of the danger of some iron borne reaver wanting to pay the iron price for his goods. The cog was nevertheless manned by extra troops in case of such an eventuality.

Marcus had finally found the time to spare to see if Major Finnegan's boasts about the men were well desired. They were indeed disciplined, but there was a lot to be desired and they were neither on the level of the Spartans or that of the Roman legions. Far from it. He had his work cut out for him, but he would have appreciated there to be no work for him at all on the mater.

They still had difficulty in holding a formation even, if they were good with the weapons they bore. At least there weren't any major difficulty concerning the new ranking reform.

He had to introduce mock formation fights with the officers acting as referees and a few new exercises and drills he instructed the Major to run the men through. He was considering introducing a pike square formation, but that was likely at this point to confuse both officers and enlisted alike. He was going to have to wait for a while on that due to necessity, if nothing else.

It was a good thing there were no major wars to be fought any time soon. At least not that he could remember at any rate. His troops simply weren't at the level he wanted them to be in order to be considered an improvement over the norm. They were getting there though even, if it would take slightly longer than usual..

Due to what Marcus found to be an unsatisfactory pace the troops were progressing at he had introduced some minor endurance training and physical workouts. Namely the pushup and running laps. In hindsight he should have done that a lot sooner, it being 20\20 and all plus the great number of other more pressing tasks had prevented that.

It was clear that he should be more invested with his own troops in the future, if he wanted them to be able to face the challenges ahead, but as the number of challenges that he himself had to face wasn't decreasing and in fact increasing made that a difficult task.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As the month and subsequently the year waned one fine day the maester burst into the hall proclaiming that there was a visitor. Upon asking who it was and being told that it is Lord Manderly himself Marcus rushes to greet him berating the maester all the way and ordering a feast to be served.

As Lord Lane exits the keep and discovers that indeed Lord Wyman Manderly was stepping out of a large sturdy looking carriage he proclaims "Lord Manderly my friend welcome."

"By the old and the new gods Lane I had heard you had fixed this place up, but this is nothing short of a miracle. Last I saw this place it was an old pit in the middle of nowhere." Lord Manderly proclaims loudly.

Grinning Marcus responds "I try. Come! Come! I have ordered a feast to be prepared in your honor."

Both Lords make their way towards the dining hall were a feast is hastily being prepared.

"You really should have given me more warning so I could have prepared a better feast. I'm not as experienced as you at throwing feasts. Don't throw them all that often around here to be honest." Marcus says as both Lords sit themselves around the table.

"Ha! Like you give me any notice when you happen to show up in town Eh" Lord Manderly says in his usual laud fashion.

"True, but then again I seemed to have the luckiest of timing as you always happen to be throwing one when I'm in town as it were and we really should dispense with the formalities you are a guest in my home such as it is at the moment. I would very much like it if you called me Marcus as saying Lord this Lord that all the time gets old fast." Marcus proclaims with a smile.

Letting out a boisterous laugh Lord Manderly responds "Ha Marcus it is then, but only if you call me Wyman."

"Done! But as much as I wouldn't like to discuss business I am a little curious as to what brings you to my fair town?"Marcus questions.

"And what a town it is! Truly something else!" Lord Manderly comments on the town and after a moment he adds "I'm here on a delicate mater Marcus. I will understand, if you refuse, but would consider it a personal favor, if you are to consider it."

"Color me intrigued Wyman! I am all ears." Marcus responds truly curious.

"Not too long ago a septon has come to you requesting you build a sept in Moat Cailin and you had refused. I was hoping that you would do me this personal favor and reverse your judgment on the mater. I would understand and not hold it against you, if you were to refuse. This is the North after all." Lord Manderly says in much more serious and quite voice compared to his usual boisterous proclamations.

Marcus's mood darkens at hearing this as he hadn't expected for the septon to be this devious. Pinching the bridge of his nose he questions "Wyman did you by any chance bring this septon with you?"

"Eh? Yes, but what does this have to do with the matter?" Lord Manderly questions bewildered.

"Patience. You will find out soon enough." Marcus answers Lord Manderly and turning to the door he bellows "Guard!"

After a moment one of the guards stationed outside the hall enters and salutes with a closed fist over his breast.

"There was a septon in Lord Manderly's party. Bring him here." Marcus orders and the guard salutes again and exits.

"I'm sorry to have to say this Wyman, but you seem to have been mislead in this particular matter. However I would once again ask for your patience a little while longer. All will be revealed soon." Marcus says as both Lords await the coming of the septon. Marcus was already willing to put money on who that would be.

Soon enough the septon is escorted into the hall by a pair of guardsmen and Marcus questions icily "Septon Baelor was it?"

A bit shakily the septon replies "Ah... yes your lordship."

"I'm going to ask you a few questions and I want you to answer truthfully. If you don't and rest assured I will know you will be nailed to a cross. Is any of this not clear?" The ice in Marcus's voice seems to have brought the temperature and mood in the room to that of harshest of winters.

Either this or the fact that his carful manipulation was unraveling had scared the septon to the point of stammering "I... I... but...lordship... my... I..."

Marcus interrupts his ramblings "It is a yes or no question and I expect such."

After a few moments for the septon to calm down he manages an answer "Ah... Yes m'lord."

"Very well. You came to me not long ago requesting that a sept be built in Moat Cailin. Here is the first question. What was my verdict on the subject? Answer truthfully your life depends on it." Marcus question with an icy calm.

"Lord Manderly... you can't simply stand by this heretic barbarians treatment of my most holy self. You are after all Shield of the Faith." The septon tries to dodge the question by appealing to Lord Manderly.

Wyman for his part was many things, but a stupid man he was not. Having caught on to the fact that there was something fishy going on and it had nothing to do with his sigil he orders "Answer the question septon."

"Well...That is... I...The Lord..." The septon begins to stammer weakly once more.

Marcus was however not fooled by the act this time around as he had already seen him act composed. He stands and crosses the distance to the septon and addresses one of the guards "Sword!"

After the guard complies Marcus holds the tip of the gladius at the septons neck and says "Stop stalling! You are testing my patience. Answer now or I shall gut you were you stand."

If the septon was faking his fear before now he truly was scared as evidenced by the foul smelling puddle near his feet. It takes a few moments for the man to gain courage enough to speak and all this time Marcus's gladius doesn't weaver.

"Lord Lane... offered to build a sept, but... refused to pay for it." The septon finally answers

"Close enough." Marcus says and hands the blade back to the guard he took it from and the kicks the septon in the chest thereby felling the man and says "You answered truthfully even if it took some convincing and for that I shall grant you more mercy than you probably deserve. You are hereby banished from my lands, if you are found on anywhere on lands I control and\or govern from this day forward you would be executed on sight. I suggest you leave before day break tomorrow as that is when this proclamation takes effect."

"Bu... but... You can't do this... I'm a septon." The before mentioned septon protests weakly.

"Get him out of my sight and get someone to clean this mess up." Marcus orders the guards.

"This was certainly eventful to say the least." Lord Manderly proclaims regaining his usual boisterous self. He had sat patiently and watched the proceedings.

"I must apologize for this whole affair Wyman. Terrible business, but I take a dim view of people trying to set my friends against me." Marcus says.

"Nonsense I should be the one apologizing as I was deceived by this charlatan. You were too soft on him. If this were White Harbor I would have strung the little weasel by his neck." Wyman proclaims loudly mimicking strangling with his meaty hands.

"On the matter of the sept so this doesn't happen again know that I have given my permission for a sept to be built so long as I'm not the one paying for it. If the church of the Seven is willing to spend the money I would even build them a sept greater than the one Bealor the blessed built in King's Landing." Marcus proclaims.

"Splendid! I'll talk it through with the church and house Manderly would be covering part of the cost of the new sept... although it wouldn't probably be the size of the Sept of Baelor. I will also have them send a real septon we don't want a repeat of this fiasco." Proclaims loudly and smiling.

"It is agreed then and the matter is closed, although the mood for our feast seems to have been somewhat ruined." Marcus comments

"Nonsense! I could eat a horse being on the road gives a man an appetite." Wyman answers boisterously.

"Then by all means let's eat. Let it not be said I starved you to death." Marcus says with a smirk.

With that the two Lords commenced in some friendly banter and began a feast with enough food and drink for fifty men. Suffice it to say the morning after the headache Marcus had felt like he had jumped head first from a skyscraper.


End file.
